


The 'Original' 100-Drabble Collection

by NirCele



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fire, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 20:57:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 99
Words: 23,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5306519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NirCele/pseuds/NirCele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of 100 drabbles based off 100 prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire

Glorfindel couldn't decide whether he loved or hated fire. He had…an interesting relationship with it.

Sometimes he would sit for hours, staring into the writhing myriad of colors, almost so close that he would be singed; other times he couldn't even bear being near the crackling flames.

After all, he couldn't forget his past with it.

It had saved many lives during the crossing of the Helcaraxë, including his own. He would have died many times over during the trek if not for the fiery torches that kept the ice from numbing his very bones. It was his friend and savior, the one thing between himself and a frozen death.

But then, in a peaceful haven where life was calm and Glorfindel had been happy since the speaking of the Oath, it had betrayed him. Roaring fiercely through the body of a fallen Maia, it had challenged him…and won. The last memories of that life had been the snapping of fire, the red and orange tinting his vision, and the smell of burning flesh and hair.

So it had helped him once, then wrapped him in its fiery embrace as he fell to his death.

Glorfindel sometimes wondered if fire was sentient. Maybe it was all a joke.


	2. Pet

"Nana, we found a pet! Can we keep it?!"

Celebrían smiled as she looked down at her young sons – then her expression changed to one of horror and she leapt backwards in shock. "GET THAT OUT OF HERE!"

"But we –"

"OUT!"

"Fine!" they grumbled in unison, stomping out of her chambers and down the long trek to the gardens again. Once there, they stopped next to the tree where they had found their 'pet' and sat down, letting the creature free.

Then they watched as the hairy spider, almost as big as their tiny torsos, scurried into the bushes.


	3. Transportation

"No, stop it," Erestor said, slapping away Elladan's hand. "I don't need help mounting my own horse."

The Peredhel looked shocked. "But you've never ridden a horse before!"

Erestor laughed and swung his leg over the saddle, seating himself with ease. "That's absolutely ridiculous, Elladan. I just don't usually need to ride – I have plenty to do here without traveling somewhere."

"But – but Glorfindel told me you've never gone riding before," protested Elladan.

"Oh, did he?" Erestor turned his head to look at the golden-haired Elda mounting his own horse, then grinned evilly when Glorfindel let out a short shriek as his mount bucked wildly, throwing him off. "Well, look at that," Erestor commented casually. "It looks as though Glorfindel is having trouble getting on his horse. Why don't you go help him?"

Elladan gave him a confused look, then hurried to do as he said. A few minutes later, with much grumbling from Glorfindel and more than a few muttered curses, he had brushed himself off and was checking to see what the problem was. Elladan looked vaguely amused, then reached under the saddle blanket and pulled out a fuzzy ball with sharp spikes sticking out of it. He winced in sympathy for the horse, but then Glorfindel reached over and snatched the item.

"Erestor!" he howled, whirling to look accusingly at the adviser, who looked quite smug.

"You can now give back my hair clip you won in the last bet," said Erestor.

Glorfindel glared at him.


	4. Plants

"Nana, what are you doing?"

Celebrían looked down at her doe-eyed, tousled-haired daughter, and smiled. "I'm picking the dead leaves off the rose bushes, Arwen. Would you like to help?"

Arwen stared. "But why are you taking the leaves off the bush? Aren't they supposed to stay on there?"

"Actually," Celebrían said gently, "we always need to pick the dead pieces off, so there will be room for fresh flowers to grow. See?" She carefully pulled a lifeless rosebud away to reveal a very small, green bud that trembled slightly. "This is going to grow into a strong flower because I took off what would strangle it and weigh it down."

"Ohh," said Arwen, nodding her little head. "I undershtand. Can I help you?"

"Of course!" Celebrían agreed, smiling. "Here, you get the bottom part down here. Remember, just the dry ones that look brown and crumbly, okay?"

"Okay." Arwen plucked a few off before she looked up at her Nana. "Does this mean we're saving lives?"

Celebrían thought about that for a moment, then she nodded. "Indeed it does, penneth. Good observation!"

Arwen beamed.


	5. Threats

"Give me my books!"

"Nope," said Glorfindel cheerfully, holding the two books high in the air and above Erestor's head. "You said that you were going to come to supper, and now I find you sneaking off to your room with these things."

"Give. Them. To me. Now." His eyes were slitted and angry, but Glorfindel wasn't intimidated. After all, the adviser was more than a head shorter than him, with no way of reaching the volumes using his height.

"You're just going to go off and read," rebutted Glorfindel. "And you promised that you were going to eat!" He noticed that Erestor wasn't disproving his statements.

"I will send you on a month-long patrol by tomorrow evening if you don't give them to me!" Erestor threatened, refusing to jump to try reaching his books Glorfindel had just snatched from him.

"Only if you promise that you won't go off and read them; you'll come eat supper with everyone else," Glorfindel persuaded, but Erestor wasn't convinced. He considered stomping on Glorfindel's toes, but it probably wouldn't even hurt the annoying Elda.

"Whoa!" yelped Glorfindel, jumping back as Erestor kicked at his shins. "Valar, Erestor, resorting to violence? That's beneath you!"

"Says the person who just stole my books," snapped Erestor, glowering at Glorfindel and deciding not to repeat the action, since he now seemed to be expecting it.

"Excuse me," a quite familiar voice said, and Erestor lost his aggressive stance to offer a nod to the blonde-haired elleth that had just stepped up beside them. Her stomach was swollen, and she wore a silver gown that accented her gleaming eyes.

"Celebrían," said Glorfindel, his tone obviously disapproving as he lowered the books. "Shouldn't you have someone escorting you?"

"Oh, of course, but Elrond had to go fetch the boys," she said brightly, her smile lighting up the corridor, and sidled next to Erestor, slipping her arm through his. He scowled at Glorfindel, suspecting the Balrog-slayer of having planned this, but Celebrían pouted innocently and leaned some of her weight on his. "Will you help me to the dining halls?"

"Of course, my lady," he said, ever politely, and frowned at Glorfindel, raising a questing eyebrow. Glorfindel laughed and handed the books to him, then walked away, whistling merrily under his breath.

Erestor rolled his eyes and tucked the books under his other arm, then carefully stepped forward and glanced down at the heavily pregnant Celebrían. "Shall we?"

"Yes, let's," said Celebrían, smiling guilelessly. "You are staying for supper, aren't you?"

Erestor restrained himself from sighing heavily. "Yes, I suppose I will."


	6. Water

Erestor sighed in blessed relief as he eased his heaviest customary black robe over his shoulders. He had come down to the Bruinen for a small break – Elrond had literally ordered him out of his study for "at least an hour" – but of course, this was a pretty abandoned area. It used to be a popular picnic place for Elrond, his wife, and their children, but once Celebrían had sailed, none of the Peredhil had come back.

It was a very nice place though, with a gorgeous waterfall cascading down a short drop, then running into a shallow pool about fifty feet wide and running down much further to join a stronger current. The bank Erestor was standing on was covered in lush grass, with overhanging trees surrounding the small clearing. A barely-visible path led back to the Last Homely House, but Erestor wasn't planning on using it for quite a while.

Well, he had been ordered to rest. And he was going to do it! He took off his outermost robe and laid it on the grass beside him before dropping down to join it. He still wore another robe over his tunic and leggings, but, thinking about it, Erestor decided to pull his soft suede boots off and toss them to join the first article of clothing he had abandoned. Then he lay back and crossed his arms underneath his head, staring up at the particles of sky that showed through the treetops.

It took only five minutes of the water crashing into rocks at the base of the fall, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the slight foaming sound of liquid washing against the bank for Erestor to nod off. His dark eyes glazed over and he drifted off into reverie.


	7. Wind

Elladan stood on the balcony, the furious wind whipping tendrils of dark hair into his face. He stared unseeingly at the roiling clouds on the horizon that were moving rapidly toward the Last Homely House. Lightning cracked in the distance, and the river churned.

"Come inside, El," he heard his brother say from inside. Elladan didn't hear it for a moment, then he breathed deeply and turned to leave the balcony.

It was dry and warm in their chambers; Elrohir was crouched beside the fireplace and feeding the flickering flames with pieces of wood. He glanced up when Elladan shut the glass-paned door behind him.

"You seem distracted," he said simply.

Elladan shrugged and seated himself on the nearest chair. "Just thinking. Nana and Ada went out on their excursion with Arwen…they're going to be caught in that storm."

"Unless Ada uses It," Elrohir said.

Shaking his head, Elladan said, "No, remember, he always says 'Let nature –"

"– take its due course.' Right." Elrohir snorted and tossed another stick onto the fire. "Well, then, they can get soaked."

"Arwen always looks like a drowned cat when she gets rained on," Elladan said with a slight grin.

"Well, so do you," retorted Elrohir. "You'd better be glad you didn't go with them."

"Who's the older one here again?" Elladan said, raising an eyebrow in an eerie imitation of his father.

"That's a good question." Elrohir gasped dramatically. "Maybe we were mixed up at birth – maybe I'm really the oldest!"

"And maybe Orcs are actually just misunderstood," Elladan sniffed.


	8. Hobby

Glorfindel's fingers slipped on the small knife and he caught his breath, but it didn't cut him. Readjusting his grip after the tense moment, he turned it in his hand and cut it into the wooden block again.

A sliver of oak fell onto the table he was working over, and as he moved the blade further into the wood and along the edge, the lines of a body appeared. Glorfindel paused to examine it and he sighed, continuing on. Shavings dropped from the wood and a few collected near the arm that was forming, so Glorfindel blew on them to knock them away.

A few minutes later, after etching the solid edges of an elven form, he set the knife down and picked up another one, this one much smaller and tapering to a narrow point at the end. He ran it along the sharpening stone to ensure it was sufficiently sharp, and then he began the delicate work.

Tiny details appeared under the quick blade; wind-swept hair that fell halfway down the figure's back, slim yet strong shoulders, a noble and fair face, subtly engraved designs on the clothes…

Glorfindel set the knife aside to examine his efforts, and he frowned when he noticed that something seemed to be missing. After a moment of thought, his eyes brightened and he lifted the knife once more. A few strokes, and he put the blade away again.

A familiar figure stared proudly at him, a circlet carved onto the wooden forehead. The features were eerily similar to the Lord of Imladris, but that was as he remembered it. Glorfindel smiled and stretched up to place the statue alongside many others of the same. It was nestled between a woman with kind eyes and a quick smile, and another male figure with a flute raised to his lips.

Glorfindel stared at them for a long moment before sighing heavily and closing his eyes, dropping his head into his hands.


	9. Tradition

"It is tradition," Elrond said, smiling over his wife's shoulder as they danced. "The next highest-ranking elf in the city is to dance with the ruler's eldest daughter on the first celebration of the year. Arwen has decided that she wants to dance with you. You cannot simply refuse her."

Erestor, the one to whom he had been speaking, looked immensely annoyed. "Oh? Why have I never heard of this tradition before?"

"Well, it actually came from Sirion," Elrond admitted, loosening his grip on Celebrían to twirl her lightly. "But it was adopted by Lothlórien and Mithlond, and then I decided to invoke it tonight. After all, you don't want to break my daughter's heart, do you?"

Erestor rolled his eyes. "I doubt that I will break her heart by declining to dance with her this one night."

"She's already danced with everyone else," said Celebrían. "Glorfindel, her brothers, even the minstrels – including Lindir!" Still swaying to the soft music that was being played; she reached out and clasped his hands with one of her's while still holding onto Elrond. "Come now, please…for me?"

Erestor sighed heavily and glared at the floor. After a moment, he spoke grudgingly. "I suppose I shall – but if she steps on my toes, I won't dance again."

Celebrían smiled brightly and turned back into her husband's embrace, knowing very well that Arwen wouldn't step on his feet and that he would be trapped into many more dances with her young daughter.


	10. Earth

"What in Arda is that all about?" Erestor asked, looking out the window of the library.

Across the well-kept lawn, Lord Elrond's twin sons had spades in their hands, digging in the soft dirt beside an overhanging tree. A young Arwen stood beside them, a cloth bag clutched in one hand and her face streaked with tears.

Glorfindel, who for some odd reason was visiting the library just then, stepped up beside Erestor and peered out the window as well. "Ah," he said with a small smile. "Arwen's pet lizard has died, and she's heartbroken, so her brothers are kindly burying it for her."

"Oh," Erestor said. He grumbled something under his breath, then turned and clasped his hands behind his back. "Well, come on then," he said, heading for the door.

"What are we doing?" asked Glorfindel, pulling away from the sad scene at the window.

"Going to either join the funeral, or find her a new pet, of course," the adviser said.

Glorfindel laughed and followed.


	11. Breaking the Habit

"You know, chewing on the end of your quill probably isn't healthy," Glorfindel observed to his friend. Erestor stopped nibbling the feather and glowered at Glorfindel, and the Balrog-slayer hastily added, "Of course, who am I to tell you what is healthy and what is not?"

"I'm trying to stop doing it," Erestor grumped, pulling the now-wet quill out of his mouth and turning his scowl to it instead.

"I'll help!" Glorfindel volunteered happily, and Erestor raised an eyebrow at him – the move apparently mimicked from Lord Elrond. "And what can you do to help?"

Glorfindel considered that for a long moment. "Well…hmm. Maybe – you could stop using quills!" he suggested.

Erestor blinked, then looked up at the ceiling as if silently pleading the Valar for patience. Finally, he sighed. "Glorfindel, how am I supposed to write anything if I don't have a quill?"

Glorfindel shrugged. "I dunno. I'm the one that came up with the solution, you implement it." With that, he pranced away, golden waves dancing over his shoulders, and whistling a merry tune.

Erestor resisted the urge to throw something heavy after the retreating back. Then he scowled once more as he realized the end of the feathered quill was back in his mouth.

Lord Elrond wondered the next morning why all of the quills in Erestor's study were completely stripped of the filaments that made up the feathers.  
(And that is how pens were invented.)


	12. Betrayal

Elrond cleared his throat and looked around the group of collected adviser, councilors, captains, and just a few diplomats from the other elven realms. "Well, thank you all for your contribution. Is there anything else we need to add to this?" When no one said anything, he nodded. "Excellent, shall we move on to the weapons inventory and ordering?"

They all nodded their assent, and Elrond turned to Erestor. "May I have the report, please?"

Erestor's head jerked up and he blinked like a startled deer. "Excuse me?"

"The weapons inventory…" Elrond repeated slowly. The others sitting began sorting their own reports and preparing for the next part of the meeting.

"Ah…yes. That." Erestor straightened and swiped at his eyes, once, then began shuffling through the pile of papers in front of him. He scanned them quickly, and his movements became more frantic as he didn't find what he was looking for. After a bit longer of searching, his shoulders slumped wearily and his face fell into a frown. "I…must not have brought it, my lord," he said somewhat weakly.

Glorfindel, half-asleep the whole time, came to full awareness as he realized what they were talking about. "Oh!" he said loudly, attracting the attention of everyone that had been staring at Erestor, shocked at his forgetfulness. "It slipped my mind; my apologies. I borrowed that this morning to check it again and it must be still in my office." He offered a bow, terribly formed from his sitting position. "I can bring it next week, no worries." With that, he slid down in his seat again and his eyes glazed over.

It finally sunk into Elrond's brain, and he nodded. "Oh, yes, I see. Thank you, we'll just go to the next part then. Galdor, will you present that message from Lord Círdan?"

Erestor would have given Glorfindel a relieved look at the unexpected, entirely untrue, yet welcome interruption, but the Balrog-slayer had already surreptitiously fallen asleep again.


	13. Rebellion

"Go sit down in my study and wait for me, right now!" Elrond ordered, pointing to the door and staring down his eldest son.

"Fine," sulked Elladan, his eyebrows lowered rebelliously and he turned to stomp out of the room. Elrond sighed when the door slammed behind him and he gave his law-father an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Celeborn snorted. "Oh, don't worry. At that age, they're usually like that. You should have seen Celebrían when she was young!"

"Was she really like that?" Elrond asked, intrigued by the idea of his regal wife acting like Elladan just had.

Celeborn sniffed, insulted. "No, of course not. She was a perfect angel. They got it from your side of the family, I'm sure." He leveled Elrond with a suspicious glare.

Elrond wondered if it would be remiss to roll his eyes, but he had just reprimanded Elrohir for that earlier, so he restrained himself.

Celeborn remembered Celebrían standing with her hands on her hips, scowling at him just like young Elladan had a moment ago, and he held back a laugh.


	14. What Happens Now?

Elladan and Elrohir were in the midst of a battlefield, surrounded by the fallen and bloodied corpses of orcs. Their faces were wearied, with no joy from their victory.

Revenge could change a perspective.

"They're all dead, Elladan. All of them." Elrohir's voice was tired, his swords hanging limply from his hands. "What happens now?"

Elladan surveyed the broken, trampled ground. "We burn the bodies, then…"

"Home?" Elrohir asked, a tinge of hope in his voice at the thought of going back to the Last Homely House – but there would be nothing for them there but more sorrow and pain.

"No," Elladan said. He closed his eyes in fatigue, and then opened them again. "There was rumor of a pack in the crossing near the north of Trollshaw. We head there next."

And so the death spree would continue.


	15. Retaliation

Elrond might have just ignored the figure crouching beside the corner of the wall if it hadn't been someone he never would have expected to be there.

"Erestor?"

"Shh," the black-clad adviser hissed, peeking around the corner. "Keep your voice down – he might suspect something."

"Who?"

"Glorfindel, of course."

Elrond gave his Chief Counselor a long look, which Erestor ignored. "Do I want to know what you're going to do?"

Erestor considered that. "No."

"Very well, then." Elrond turned and continued walking.

A few moments later, he heard a triumphant yell from Erestor, and a scream that sounded suspiciously like Glorfindel's…


	16. Count Down

Elladan shot to his feet. "How much longer?" he anxiously asked the healer who had just stepped out of his parents' bedchambers. Her expression was serene as she wiped her hands on a towel.

"Another hour," she said, and picked up a neatly folded bundle of clothing beside the door before turning to go back in the room. The latch clicked shut behind her, and Elladan fidgeted fretfully for a moment before throwing himself back down on his seat.

Elrohir, silent the whole time, looked over at him and offered him a weak grin. "Just an hour before we have a little sister."

"Don't remind me," Elladan muttered, burying his head in his hands. He turned his head to shoot his younger brother a glare. "And stop acting all serene. You're just as nervous as I am."

"Whatever," was Elrohir's elegant reply.


	17. Celebration

Lindir's fingers danced nimbly across his harp, the music driven into his mind by multiple hours of practice. The time he had spent learning this now enabled his focus to be on other things while his fingers knew where they were supposed to go, what notes to play next. He was aided by the music the other minstrels produced from their assorted instruments.

Therefore, he examined the occupants in the Hall of Fire as he performed the song. His gaze caught on Elrond and Celebrían first, the Lord and Lady sitting beside their children as they talked, eyes sparkling and hands clasped, clearly still in love after centuries of marriage. The twins were on either side of Arwen, talking over her head about something. She occasionally chimed in with something that must have been witty, since every time she added to their conversation, all three burst into laughter.

Smiling, Lindir turned his gaze across the massive room. He spotted warriors, archers, scribes, assistants, librarians, and many other elves with various jobs that were enjoying themselves before his attention was snagged. Surprisingly, standing between two pillars in a darkened area, was Glorfindel, his golden hair caught with a silver ribbon and tied back. He held two wine goblets in his hands, drinking from one as he talked. For a moment, Lindir thought he was alone, but then he saw a shadow move and realized that Erestor was there, his eyebrow cocked sardonically and shaking his head.

Lindir couldn't understand what exactly they were saying, but it was apparent that Glorfindel wanted him to come join the celebration, while Erestor seemed satisfied to lurk in the corner. Lindir, for a strange reason that he didn't know himself, hoped that Glorfindel would succeed. He continued watching, plucking at the strings of the harp that was as tall as he.

Glorfindel, his very body posture persuasive, offered the adviser one of the goblets, talking all the while. Erestor seemed to sigh heavily, then accepted it but didn't drink. He shook his head again, and Glorfindel's lips moved even faster, gesturing with his free hand and waving at the groups scattered through the Hall.

Erestor's shoulders slumped and he said something, but it seemed less determined than before. Glorfindel straightened and he beamed, motioning insistently for Erestor to leave the small area. There was a long moment of hesitation, and Erestor raised his cup to his lips and drank deeply, then stepped out of the shadows and into the glaring light that came from the multiple fires scattered throughout the Hall. Glorfindel smiled broadly and patted his shoulder, then trotted alongside him as he chattered about something else.

Lindir caught the faintest trace of a smile tugging at Erestor's mouth when he and Glorfindel joined Elrond's family. The song ended, and Lindir glanced at his fellow minstrels, they shared a grin, and then they started the next piece of music, a fast tune that had people starting to tap their feet.

Lindir looked around the room once more, spying the happy occupants, and he smiled and played on.


	18. Count Up

"I can count to a hundred and two," Elrohir stated proudly to his tutor.

Erestor raised an eyebrow over the paper he was reviewing. "Oh?"

"Yes!" Elrohir scrambled up onto the settee Erestor was on, and plopped down next to him. "I'll show you. One, two…three…"

His words were tuned out by Erestor, who wasn't being rude, but simply going along with the daily ritual. Every morning after breakfast, Elrohir would march up to him and declare that he could count to some number, and would then prove it.

The elfling always got it right, anyway, so Erestor didn't see any point in paying close attention when he could listen with one ear, and continue making sure this paper was written correctly.

"…one hundred and one, one hundred and two!" Elrohir announced, and then looked up expectantly at Erestor.

Erestor patted his knee absent-mindedly. "Good job, pen-neth. I'm sure no one else can count that high precisely like that."

Elrohir beamed with delight and then confided, "Elladan can only count to one hundred and one."

Erestor coughed to cover his laughter. "Ah, well…that's interesting."

"I'm going to go find Elladan," Elrohir announced, scooted down from the seat, and dashed away.

Erestor chuckled as he left, then returned to his work, but his mind was occupied with childish laughter and the sparkling eyes of an elfling.


	19. The Lion and the Mouse

"I don't like this," grumbled Erestor, watching as his friend swung a yellow cloak over his shoulders, the color making his golden hair stand out even more.

"Oh, don't be silly." Glorfindel scooped up Erestor's black cloak and tossed it to him. "Here, put this on. Let's go!" He vanished out the door; and Erestor, muttering peevishly under his breath, followed.

Erestor caught up to Glorfindel, having to take two steps to the taller elf's every one. Moving down the hall together, dark and light, ebony and gold, right next to each other; many elves stopped and stared. Soon they reached their destination – the Hall of Fire.

Glorfindel threw the door open and marched grandly in, while the raven-haired adviser followed like a shadow.

Lord Elrond saw them and immediately one image came to mind. "Why, Glorfindel, you look like one of those great cats from the South – a lion, I think it was called!"

"What would that make me?" groused Erestor. "A mouse?"


	20. Gems and Jewels

It was minutes before the Lady of Imladris would sail into the West. The ship was bobbing gently with the waves, waiting as she said her farewells.

Celebrían held her young daughter tightly in her arms, Arwen's dark head resting on her shoulder. They remained that way for a long moment, then Celebrían pulled back, her face wearied and careworn. She ran her thumb over Arwen's quivering eyelashes.

"Don't cry, íell," Celebrían whispered, brushing away a tear. Arwen blinked rapidly and stared up at her mother, eyes shining. "When will I see you, again, Nana?"

Celebrían's face fell in sorrow, as if she had seen something none other could, and her hand fell to her side. She took a long, exhausted breath. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out something that was hidden by her pale trembling fingers. There was a glimpse of a radiant white jewel before Celebrían slipped it into Arwen's bodice pocket and placed her hand over it. "Follow your heart, my little Evenstar," she murmured, and pressed a last kiss to her daughter's brow before turning to speak one last time with her husband.

To Arwen, it seemed as though her mother's almost-translucent face had been even more grieved at that last moment as a tear trickled down her face.


	21. Stealing

"It's not stealing if they leave it out on the counter for you," Elladan and Elrohir tried to convince Glorfindel. The Balrog-slayer raised a golden eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm," mumbled Elladan, stuffing one of the pastries in his mouth. He picked up another and offered it to Glorfindel, who sighed.

"I do not think I should partake in these stolen delicacies," the Balrog-slayer said primly, though he was eyeing them eagerly.

"The cooks really won't mind," Elrohir assured him. He and Elladan had almost been in despair when the door to the closest they were hiding in had been opened, but both sighed in relief when they had seen that it was just Glorfindel. Him they could convince to join their side.

"See? Yum!" said Elladan, popping the pastry in his mouth and reaching for another one.

Glorfindel finally gave in, reaching out and snagging a sweet, devouring it in one bite. He groaned and closed his eyes. "Oh…those are so good!"

"Exactly!" Elrohir agreed; he and his brother exchanged triumphant grins.

"But now you're both going to help the cooks make more," Glorfindel decreed, then turned and left the pantry, a grin spreading across his face as he formed a plan to sweet-talk one of the maids and get some more of the delicious tidbits.

Elladan and Elrohir groaned, then finished the plate off.


	22. New Race

Elladan and Elrohir were lounging in the grass beside a tall willow tree, both in a similar pose of long legs stretched out before them, arms propping their heads up, and staring absent-mindedly at the passing clouds overhead. They were both easily reminded of when they had done this before, in times long gone by, where a silver-eyed laughing lady would lie next to them and point at the sky with them, making up names for each oddly-shaped piece of fluff.

Elrohir eventually broke the silence, his voice low. "Look, there's a rabbit," he said, and a grin tugged at Elladan's lips.

"A horse and its rider," the elder twin suggested, readjusting his position to gesture at a cloud that continually changed shape. "It's galloping across the sky."

Elrohir squinted up at another cloud just floating past the gleaming sun. "What about that one?"

"Hmm." Elladan thought for a long moment. "That must be some kind of new race. A mix between an elf and a dwarf, perhaps?"

Elrohir coughed, and they had a good laugh about that mental image. After a few more chuckles, they fell into silence once more and pondered the memories that danced through their minds. Both startled when a widely smiling face came into view just above their heads, blocking out the view of the sky.

"Having fun without me?" Arwen teased.

"Of course not," Elladan said in mock horror, but he scooted a little further from Elrohir and patted the space between them. "Join us?"

Arwen nodded and settled herself between them, grinning. "What are we doing?"

Elrohir and Elladan exchanged reminiscent looks before moving closer, sandwiching her between them. They both smiled and one lifted her hand to point it at the clouds. "We're making names for the clouds," they said. "What does that one look like?"

"A dead bird!" she exclaimed, seeing the image immediately. "No wait – it's Ada!"

Her brothers choked.


	23. Run and Run and Run

"On your mark…" Elrohir paused and glanced over at his twin brother, who was grinning widely and holding back his mount.

"Get set…"

Elrohir loosened the reins on his own horse, readying himself for the leap that his stallion would make to get them in the lead. "And…go!"

The horses bounded forward, haunches pumping and hooves churning into the ground. The twins laughed wildly, urging their mounts on with shouted words and a leaning-forward stance.

"I'm going to beat you, little brother!" Elladan proclaimed over his shoulder as his horse pulled ahead slightly.

"Oh, that's what you think!" said Elrohir, and gave his horse free rein to let him move at his own pace. The stallion took the bit in his mouth eagerly and thundered forward, whipping past Elladan's horse as though the other was standing completely still, and then roared around the last obstruction. He skidded to a stop, Elrohir rocking in the saddle and throwing his head back to laugh triumphantly.

Elladan galloped up only a moment later, his face wreathed in a grin. "Good trick!" he exclaimed. "I should like to learn that one!"

"Of course," Elrohir agreed, and swung from his horse gracefully to pat his brother's knee. "Just do as I do."

"I'm feeling suspicious," said Elladan, but he was still beaming.

"Oh, you silly thing. Do you want to learn how to do this, or not?"

Elladan stuck his tongue out childishly, and they both laughed again.


	24. Filling in the Gaps

"Erestor…"

The dark-haired adviser looked up from his work and waited patiently for a minute, then raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Glorfindel hesitated and scratched his head, then he smiled broadly. "Why don't overlook and oversee mean the same thing?"

Erestor stared for a very long moment. "I…"

Glorfindel just stood there, still grinning, and enjoying the sight of Erestor speechless. After another few seconds, Erestor finally regained his voice.

"That is a quite interesting question, Glorfindel," he said, calling up every persuasive skill he had, "and a very intriguing one as well. I'm actually rather sure that Lord Elrond knows the best way to answer it, so why don't you just dash on over to his office and ask him?"

"Okay," said Glorfindel cheerfully, and dashed out the door and on over to Elrond's office, knowing perfectly well that he was leaving behind a confused and annoyed Erestor.


	25. Documentation

"Glorfindel, for the last time," said Erestor exasperatedly, "you need to turn in the report for your last month-long patrol. Soon!"

The famed Balrog-slayer looked over at his friend and smiled. "Can't I do it later?"

"No!" exclaimed Erestor. "You said that yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that! Stop putting it off, and just write it!"

"Oh, I suppose you're right," Glorfindel agreed, seeing the frenzy Erestor was working up to. "I'll get on it as soon as possible."

Erestor stood and waited. After a long moment, Glorfindel glanced back at him. "Yes?"

"Right now, Glorfindel."


	26. Metal

"What are you doing?" Elrond exclaimed in shock upon seeing a tiny crown fly across the room and hit the wall.

Elladan glared stubbornly. "It won't fit on my head," he said angrily, scowling at the metal circlet as if it had personally offended him – and it apparently had.

Elrohir had been trying to shove his own circlet on his little head, and seeing what Elladan had done, he took it off and threw it on the floor.

"It won't work!" Elrohir shrieked, then sat down on the floor and burst into tears.

"I hate crowns!" Elladan howled, and stomped once, angrily, on the floor. Then he ran over to Elrohir and fell down beside him, beginning to cry as well.

Elrond just stared, unable to believe that had escalated so quickly. He pressed two fingers to his brow and shook his head. Celebrían left for one minute to get her handbag, and this happened!


	27. Connecting the Dots

"Nana, can you help me?"

"Certainly, Elladan. What do you need?" Celebrían looked expectantly at her older son, who was staring up at her with tearful grey eyes.

Elladan pointed to the paper he held in his hand. It was covered with perfectly round ink dots, seeming to be in a pattern. "'Restor made connecty-dot papers for me and Elrohir, but I can't figure out how it goes! Elrohir already finished his, and now he gets to go and play outside. Can you help me and show me where the lines to go between the dots go?"

Celebrían glanced around and saw no sight of her elflings' tutor – also known as the Chief Counselor of Imladris. No one knew how he could manage to find a few hours out of his already-busy day to teach Elladan and Elrohir with their school, but he did it. And he was a very stern adviser as well, tolerating no cheating. But…this wouldn't be cheating, would it? Just helping.

Her mind made up, Celebrían drew Elladan closer and smiled secretly. "Of course, penneth. Where's your quill?"

Elladan handed it up to her, and she began to study the paper. "So…you say that Erestor will let you outside after this is done?"

He nodded eagerly, and she grinned widely. "I see." She passed the feather-tipped quill back to her son and pointed at the parchment. "Okay, this is where it goes. It starts here, then goes in a circle like this. See the little dots on the outside arranged in a jagged pattern? That makes little rays, like the sun! Ah, yes, there you are! Mm…good job."

"My Lady?"

Celebrían looked up guiltily, and immediately a sweet and innocent smile broke across her face. "Hello, Erestor! How may I help you?"

The adviser flicked his gaze from the elfling nervously drawing on his paper to his mother, who was giving him the most guileless silver-eyed smile she could. "…Never mind. Elladan, come tell me when you are done."

"Yes, 'Restor," the elfling said obediently. As soon as Erestor was gone, Celebrían and Elladan broke into giggles.

"That was close, wasn't it?" the Lady laughed, ruffling her son's dark hair. Elladan nodded eagerly, his face creased with laughter.

Outside the room, Erestor sighed and shook his head, then headed back to the library, where Elladan was supposed to go after he was finished.


	28. Waybread

Arwen was heading down the river for a nice walk alongside it when she saw Elrohir sitting on the bank, his feet trailing in the water and munching on something that looked suspiciously like the waybread she had made for the month-long patrol Glorfindel was about to go on. She stopped and looked apprehensively at her brother's back. "What are you doing?"

The twin grinned and took a bite out of the food he was holding. "I saved this lembas from the last time Elladan and I went to Mirkwood. There's no use in wasting it now." He broke a piece off and flipped it into the river. An instant later, a fish appeared and gulped down the crumb, then vanished back into the water.

"That's rather wasteful," Arwen disapproved, sitting down beside him.

"Indeed," Elrohir agreed, and broke the bread in half to hand her a piece. "Here, feed the fishies, they like it."

Arwen took a small nibble from the lembas, and found that it was indeed going slightly stale. She shrugged and tugged a small bit from the bread.

Elladan found them a few minutes later, sitting shoulder to shoulder and tossing pieces of bread into the water. Fish scales flashed silver as they swam away when Elladan sat down beside the two, and he grinned.

"May I join?"


	29. Wayward

"Twins by birth, twins by attitude," Celebrían remarked, watching her young sons glaring rebelliously at their tutor.

Elrond snorted. "I'm sure you would find it as amusing if you were in his position." He shook his head, eyes raised to the heavens. "Why is Erestor the only one that can keep them under control when they're supposed to be doing their studying? He can't do all of their training!"

"Oh, that poor elf," Celebrían commented, a slight smile on her face. Elladan and Elrohir were both arguing fiercely with the hassled tutor, rudely questioning why they have to do the work they had just been assigned.

"Cel, dear –" Elrond started, but he never got further than that, as a dark-haired elf strode through the door a moment later, his black robes flapping around him. He went directly to the arguing threesome, and the poor tutor gave him a helpless look.

"Go," said Erestor, and the elf fled. Erestor turned a forbidding glare to the twins, and they practically cowered.

Elrond refrained from snickering unregally, and then he and Celebrían returned to their books they had been reading before this all started.


	30. Crossing the Line

Elrond found Lindir in the stables – and odd place for a minstrel to be, certainly. He was curled up in the straw, sobbing into his arms. A lyre was clutched in his hands, most of the strings cut cleanly in half.

Elrond hesitated, then lifted the hem of his robes and stepped into the straw beside Lindir; he knelt and placed his hand on the minstrel's shoulder. Lindir's head came up, startled, and his red-swollen eyes widened. He gasped and sat up quickly, clasping the broken lyre to his chest. "I – I'm sorry, I'll go somewhere else; I didn't mean to disturb anyone –"

"Lindir," interrupted Elrond calmly. "It's fine. May I see?" He gestured to the lyre and held his hand out.

Lindir hesitated for a long moment, then bit his trembling lips and tenderly placed the instrument in his hands. Elrond nodded his thanks and examined it, turning it to frown at the cut strings. "Ah, I see the problem. Do you know who did this?"

Lindir blinked and looked at the floor, obviously choosing to stay silent and protect whoever had ruined his favorite instrument. "It matters not, my lord," he said in a whisper, then sniffed, trying to contain the tears he had so masterfully stopped.

"Oh, it doesn't?" Elrond raised an eyebrow, but looked back down at the instrument and hummed disapprovingly. "I think I know who it – or they – were anyway. I'll have someone work on fixing this right away…Lindir?"

The minstrel had just raised his hand silently to wipe away a tear that trickled down his face, and he looked despondently at his lyre. "Yes, my lord?"

Elrond patted him on the shoulder, then stood. "I'm going to give this to the Master of Instruments to repair; is there anything else I should know?"

"No," Lindir said quietly.

Elrond gave him a long, searching look, then nodded and left. Lindir sniffed, then curled back up in the straw, not caring who might see him. No tears came this time.


	31. Leaf

Elladan lay sprawled out on the grass, his arms folded behind his head and his gaze resting on the tiny elfling crawling around beside him. His attention was snagged as a chubby hand tried to stuff an item on the ground into a drooling mouth.

"What – no!" Elladan sat up immediately and snagged the leaf. He made a face at the spittle that clung to it, and wiggled it in front of the child. "No, Arwen. Don't eat leaves. They're not good for you."

"Las," giggled the child, and Elladan snorted with laughter, tossing the offending object somewhere to his left and plopping back down.

"Yes, las. Don't chew on them."

"Da?" said Arwen with an inquisitive look on her plump face.

"No. Leaves," Elladan repeated with a patient expression. "They are not for eating."

Arwen's face scrunched up and she let out a pitiful wail. Elladan quirked an eyebrow and he rolled just enough to grab her, then settled onto his back again and held her above him, resting her pumping legs on his stomach.

"Don't be silly," he said, smiling. "That's not something to cry about."

Arwen cooed and kicked him in the face.


	32. Painting

"Hello, my little princess," Elrond cooed, then laughed when Arwen giggled and flailed her arms happily. He reached with one hand to tickle her stomach, and she squirmed, shrieking in delight.

A few moments later, silver-eyed Celebrían entered the bedchambers, instantly smiling at the sight her husband and young daughter made. Arwen was lying on the bed, her legs and arms pumping; Elrond sat beside her on a chair, with an easel in front of him and paints and brushes on the plate. He held a paintbrush in one hand, while poking her with the other, and was drawing her image on the flat white sheet before him.

"Making an image of our Evenstar?" Celebrían asked, sidling up behind him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, broad because of his edain heritage.

"Mm-hmm," he agreed, turning his head to give her a kiss, then turning back to his painting and the elfling wiggling cheerfully on the bed next to him. "She seems to like the attention."

"Oh, we girls love being spoiled by you," Celebrían said, and winked. Elrond grinned and continued stroking the canvas with one hand while reaching behind him and squeezing the nearest available body part. Celebrían yelped, then laughed, and lowered her head to nip at her husband's neck for punishment. He seemed to like it, as she meant him to.

"You think we can foist Arwen off on the boys after lunchtime?" Elrond asked, his voice a purr. She gasped in mock affront. "You want to trust Elladan and Elrohir with our precious little baby?"

"Oh, yes," he approved. "I'm sure they can take care of her for an hour. Isn't that right, princess?"

Arwen gurgled in agreement.


	33. Dreams and Fantasies

Celeborn awoke when the bed shifted suddenly beside him and his wife sat up with a gasp. His dreams had been eerily foreboding, and he would have continued on in them if not for Galadriel inadvertently waking him.

"What is it?" Celeborn asked, making out her pale form easily in the darkness. She had both hands pressed over her mouth and was trembling; he immediately wrapped both arms about her comfortingly. "Love?"

"I saw something," she whispered, fisting his nightshirt as dread overcame her. "We should never have let her leave."

"Celebrían? She was just heading back to Imladris. She has a sizeable escort." Celeborn caught her quivering shoulders and pulled her comfortingly to him, the sheets tangling around them. "What did you see?" he asked in a whisper, knowing that the only reason she would have woken like this was because of something she had foreseen in a dream.

"Pain….fire." Galadriel, so proud and strong in the sight of everyone else, buried her head in his chest, calming in his soothing embrace. "There were screams all around…and a lock of golden hair bloodied on the ground." She said nothing more, breathing deeply and wrapping slender arms around her husband's form.

Celeborn rested his chin on her golden head so like their daughter's, wondering at the dream…and fearing what it meant.

He would find out the very next day.


	34. A Book

"Daernana, can you read us a book?"

Galadriel looked up from her stitching and then down at her daughter's doe-eyed twin sons. "Did you already ask everyone else like I said?"

"Yes," they said mournfully. "Ada is in a meeting with daerada, Glorfy is 'training' with the big elves, and 'Restor is busy writing something. Nana wanted to read to us, but she is doing something with the cooking people."

Thinking for a long moment, Galadriel finally nodded and set the tapestry aside she had been working on, holding her arms out. Elladan and Elrohir settled onto her lap and handed her a book, and she opened it to the page they directed her to, and then she began reading.


	35. Let's Play A Game

Erestor finally tired of ordering Lord Elrond's elfling sons to stop playing around when they were supposed to be working on their handwriting. "Okay, Elladan and Elrohir, let's play a game."

They both looked up at him eagerly, grey eyes shining. "Okay! What is it?"

"It's called…be as quiet as you can, as long as you can, and do your schoolwork. Whoever wins the quiet game gets a prize."

The twins exchanged wary looks. "What's the prize?"

Erestor hmphed. "I will speak to your mother about it."

After a rapidly whispered discussion, both nodded. "Okay, we will play this game with you." Immediately both settled down and started writing as fast as their little hands could move. Pleased, Erestor sat back and returned to the papers he was grading for them.


	36. Sunrise

Erestor woke to a persistent knocking on his door. He grumbled and buried his head under the pillow, hoping that whoever was disturbing him would go away.

They didn't; the knocking just grew louder until no pillow could muffle the noise. With a snarled complaint under his breath, Erestor climbed from the bed and wrapped his favorite robe around himself. He smoothed his dark hair and jerked the door open, preparing to fix the person with a fierce glare.

The door bounced all the way open and two identical beaming figures skipped past him into his room.

"Elladan!" Erestor exclaimed, suddenly wide awake. He whirled and saw the twins, barely past their majority, dart over to his balcony on the other side of the room. "Elrohir! What are you doing?"

"We know this is your day off…" started Elrohir.

"…but we want to show you something!" Elladan grinned and flung the doors to the balcony open, causing the silvery light of dawn to burst into the room.

Erestor winced and flung an arm over his eyes, but felt himself dragged toward the terrace. Elrohir thrust him out the doors and joined him, laughing. Elladan was beside them in another moment, the doors pulled shut behind him.

"See for yourself!" They flung their hands dramatically toward the horizon, where the sun was just starting to peek over the mountaintops. Colors swirled and danced across the heavens, painting a beautiful scene that spread and multiplied. The lights shone down upon the trio, and Erestor let himself relax again when the twins said no more.

Just pretend they aren't there.

He tilted his head and closed his eyes, letting the shades flit across his face and glint off his black hair. His face smoothed and he released a small sound of contentment.

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged smug looks, glad that Erestor wasn't angry with them, and then they sandwiched their former tutor and flung their arms about his shoulders. He didn't protest, oddly, just stood silently.

It was ten minutes later before Elladan grinned at his twin on the other side of Erestor. "Do you think he's asleep standing up?" he asked with a wink, and then received an elbow in the side from Erestor for his impudence.


	37. Clouds

"I think that one's a horsie," said Elladan, pointing up at the sky. Fluffy white clouds floated past, providing the perfect game for the twins to play.

"And that one looks like some kind of múmakil," Elrohir laughed, and his twin nodded in agreement. "Yeah, with only two legs but a super big, ugly head."

They giggled, then returned to spotting animals or creatures in the clouds. A few minutes later, a rustle of silk was heard, then their mother sat down next to them.

"What are you two up to?" she said, ruffling the elflings' dark hair fondly. They wiggled away, mock-insulted.

"We're looking at the pictures in the clouds," Elrohir informed her seriously. "Will you help?"

"Certainly," Celebrían agreed, abandoning her state as regal Lady of Imladris and lying on her back between them. They both cuddled up next to her while poking their fingers at the sky.

"See, Nana?" Elladan said. "That one is a flower with a bee sitting on it. Can you tell?"

"Oh, yes," she agreed amiably. "And there! That one looks a dead bird!"

Both of her sons giggled wildly at that.

"No, silly," they chorused when they had caught their breath. "That's Ada!"


	38. Sunset

Elrond had just finished putting his night clothes on when his lovely silver-eyed wife burst into their chambers, her blonde tresses flying behind her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Elrond, you must see this!"

"See what?" he asked futilely as she grabbed his hand and yanked him toward the balcony. "Cel, dear, I've seen the sky plenty of times," he said when she pointed at the horizon.

"Yes, but not like this!" Celebrían cried, grabbing his jaw and literally forcing him to look at the sky. Elrond drew in a sharp breath when he saw the sunset, liberally painted with all colors of the rainbow. Purple, gold, pink, red, and green mixed in a stunning combination, casting gorgeous arrays across the clouds.

"It's beautiful," Elrond whispered in awe. Celebrían nodded, smiling, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. She let her head fall sideways on his shoulder, and there they stood, watching the sun leave their vision.

It was a picturesque sight.


	39. Ship

Celebrían sat on the shore of Valinor, her feet tucked up behind her on the soft sand. Footsteps padded behind her, and then Elrond was there, sitting beside her with a basket of food. He set it aside when she leaned over on him, and he enfolded her in his arms as they turned their gazes back to the horizon.

"This is the last ship," Celebrían spoke softly, spying the nearing fluttering sails of the ship nearing land.

"Indeed." Elrond didn't say more than that – he and his wife had discussed this already, many times.

"Do you think they came?" Celebrían's voice was calm, but anxious tones crept unbidden into it. Elrond simply tightened his grip on her hands.

"I don't know."

They sat that way for a while longer as the ship drew closer, Elrond's hair falling over his shoulder to mingle with Celebrían's blonde locks, once more radiant and glimmering. Both watched with nervousness they thought was hidden as the ship drifted closer on the waves, elves onboard pulling down the sails and drawing out ropes and anchors and other items that Celebrían couldn't identify.

She drew in a sharp breath when she saw two figures standing up to the bow of the ship, their hair blowing in the wind and posture tall and straight. An instant later, her vision sharpened and she could make out their features.

"Oh!" she cried, sitting up, and Elrond trembled behind her.

The two forms stood for a moment later, then they seemed to spot Elrond and Celebrían on the sand and they flung themselves over the railing, landing in the water with an inaudible splash and swimming toward shore.

They reached land only a few minutes later, wading through the shallows and only took the time to wring out their hair before hurrying toward the couple still sitting on the beach.

Celebrían stood before they got to her, Elrond just behind her. She caught the pair when they reached her and felt tears falling down her face as she embraced them. Her husband's arms came around her from behind, supporting her while she clung to them, her heart healing of its final wounds as she held the last of her beloved children in her arms.

"Welcome, my sons," said Elrond, his voice rumbling in her ear, and then she could feel the tears dripping on her neck as he lowered his head and wept as well.


	40. Down the River

"What, may I ask, are you doing?" Glorfindel asked the half-grown Peredhil twins.

They glanced back at him with matching grins, then looked back at the water.

"We're waiting," said one. Glorfindel couldn't really tell them apart, since they had decided to be mischievous today and wear the exact same clothes, then braided their hair similarly.

"Waiting for what?"

"That!" cried the other twin, and immediately the two strung the bows they were holding and aimed at something floating down the river. They didn't shoot yet, but kept their arrows aligned with the object, ready to release it at any second.

Glorfindel frowned in bemusement. "Why are you shooting at a dead squirrel?"

"It's not dead; it's made from fabric and stuffed. Nana made it for our archery practice," the first twin stated proudly. Glorfindel was relatively sure he knew which twin was which now.

"Since when do orcs float down rivers waiting for you to shoot at them?" Glorfindel said.

The two ignored him.

"Wait…wait…and now!" They fired in unison, both arrows arching over the rippling water and slamming squarely into the stuffed squirrel. They laughed and turned to Glorfindel.

"Did you see that?"

"Indeed. It was rather impressive," Glorfindel said, wondering why the thing hadn't completely fallen apart by now. It must have been taking a rather hard beating. "I do want to ask you, however…how are you going to retrieve your arrows?"

Elladan and Elrohir looked at it floating past them with their arrows, then exchanged strange looks.

"Oops," said one. "I hadn't thought of that."


	41. Fell Creatures

Glorfindel lay gasping for breath, the ground churned and bloodied around him. His left arm was twisted at an unnatural angle, and he dared not move it for fear of straining it further. A sharp pain lanced up from his abdomen, and his breaths were labored. Every time he drew in air, he could feel the blunt head of the arrow twisting in his stomach.

There was a howl somewhere to his right as another elven warrior was ruthlessly dispatched by the remaining orcs. Glorfindel shuddered, whether from pain or shock he didn't know, and closed his eyes, waiting for them to come toward him.

It didn't take long. Just a few minutes later, after more choked screams from the other dying elves, a snarling orc made its way to Glorfindel's side. It bent over him and then laughed, a cruel, gleeful sound.

"So the mighty warrior has fallen, eh?" It cackled again, jagged teeth clacking, and raised a filthy sword to drive through his heart.

Glorfindel met the cold eyes steadfastly, refusing to look away from death – and then he heard the thunder of hooves and the orc looked up. Terror crossed the creature's face and he started to scrabble backwards, but a spear whistled over Glorfindel's head and slammed into the orc's chest. It staggered and fell, and the ground shuddered from the hooves pounding the ground.

A white horse leapt over Glorfindel, riderless, and kicked back another orc rushing toward Glorfindel. It was Glorfindel's own mount, come with the reinforcements to find his rider.

Another horse skidded to a stop beside Glorfindel, tossing its great head and stomping, and Elrohir slid from his back, crouching next to Glorfindel immediately. He took in the arrow protruding from Glorfindel's stomach, the left arm bent oddly, and the white pallor of Glorfindel's face. He smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, you're safe now. We'll be back home soon."

Glorfindel sighed and laid his head back. Yes…home.


	42. Anatomy

"Ohh…that is disgusting, little brother!" Elladan groaned, covering his eyes with one hand and making a disgusted face.

"Speak for yourself," replied Elrohir primly. His jaw was streaked with blood somehow, but that was nothing compared to his arms and torso, which were splattered with a thick crimson liquid. "I just saved a life, while you moaned and wailed in the background." He dipped his hands in a basin of water and began scrubbing them clean, which didn't really help.

"Aiding Ada with a human's birth is not saving a life," Elladan said, taking a step back when Elrohir rolled his eyes and flicked a drop of bloody water at him. "It's completely unnecessary and –"

"Well, you didn't have to watch," said Elrohir sarcastically, smothering a laugh when he recalled Elladan's horrified face as he realized what he had just volunteered to do. "That's all you did, anyway. It's not like you helped out any. I swear, if you were any more human, you would have passed out on the spot when the baby first appeared."

"How can the edain women stand that?" Elladan gasped, the very memory making him want to gag.

"You are such a wimp," Elrohir remarked. "You can stand my blood, your blood, orc blood, and even animal blood, but not human blood?"

"Women aren't supposed to bleed like that," Elladan retorted. "Never again, little brother. Never again."


	43. Tears

"Ada! Nana!"

Elrond and Celebrían exchanged worried looks when their young sons burst into the room, one shrieking in worry, the other howling in pain.

"What happened?" Celebrían exclaimed, catching a lapful of sobbing Elladan. Elrohir was almost in tears himself, seeing his twin hurt, and leapt into his father's arms, burying his head in Elrond's chest.

"I fell," Elladan whimpered, feeling better in the comforting embrace of his mother. "My knee hurts."

Celebrían glanced down at his ripped leggings and confirmed that the knee was skinned, though thankfully not bleeding. Elrohir caught his mother's silver gaze and asked anxiously, "Is he going to die?"

"Of course not!" Elrond laughed, remembering times when he and his own twin had run around causing havoc and wounding themselves every other day.

Celebrían gave Elrond a grumpy glare. "He'll be fine, ion nîn. Your father will give you a bandage though, to make it feel better, won't he?"

"Ah, yes, of course," Elrond hastily agreed, and set Elrohir down to fetch his small kit that he kept near the bed just for this purpose.

Elladan looked up at his mother, a fat tear resting on his cheek, and he gave her a pitiful look. "Nana, will you kiss it an' make it better?"

Celebrían laughed softly and complied. "Good now?"

"Yes!" Elladan exclaimed, leaping off her lap and sprinting out of the room with his relieved twin close behind. Elrond put the healing kit back and sat back down beside his wife. "A kiss will make it better, won't it?"

"Yes," Celebrían agreed, looking fondly after the two departing elflings.

Elrond suddenly affected a pained expression. "Oh, Cel! My mouth hurts for some odd reason!" He gave his wife a naughty look. "Will you kiss it and make it better?"

Celebrían laughed and complied.


	44. Wounds

"Ow!" whined Elladan, yanking his arm away. His twin gave him an exasperated look.

"Would you stop moving?"

"But it hurts," Elladan whimpered, trying to elicit a little sympathy. It didn't work; Elrohir just rolled his eyes and dabbed the wound with a damp cloth again.

"You broke your arm last year in sparring and you were all tough and 'this doesn't hurt, it's just a scratch,'" Elrohir remonstrated. "But now you actually get a scratch, and you're acting like you got a limb chopped off."

Elladan pouted. "I wish Ada could help me instead, he's much nicer."

"He would have said the same thing." Elrohir wound a small bandage around the already-healing wound and then patted it. Elladan winced pathetically. "And anyway, he's busy with Glorfindel."

Elladan beamed. "Oh, yes, that reminds me. Did you see me fighting Glorfindel? I was amazing, wasn't I?"

Elrohir gazed at him, unaffected. "Yes, you lost. You also tackled him, which is not the best idea when one has a sword."

"But at least I disarmed him!"

"You broke two of his ribs, you mean." Elrohir smacked his brother's midsection. "You've been eating too much, you chunky thing, you."

Elladan growled at him, but Elrohir just laughed.


	45. Valinor

Elrond stood on the docks of the Grey Havens as the ship sailed away from him. He could feel the pull on his heart increasing as his life-mate stood on the deck of the ship, watching as she drew further away.

His heart broke, tears streaming down his face; he managed to hold in a full bout of weeping for his wife's sake. She raised a hand, her own face wet, once beautiful blonde curls limp and lifeless. Scars were still fading from her face, her body gaunt from torture at the hands of the orcs.

His sons stood behind him, silent; Arwen hadn't had the courage to make the trip. Erestor, ever beside him, was beside him, gripping his arm to keep him from…something.

The sun dropped below the horizon, and the sea gulls called. The ship sailed further and further, and finally the beloved Lady of Imladris was nothing but a faint figure in the distance. Elrond heard one of his sons whisper something, voice breaking, then they both turned and left.

Erestor was still next to him when the ship disappeared over the curve of the sea, and was still there when Elrond finally fell to his knees and sobbed out his grief. The black-clad adviser held his Lord, dark eyes watching the west, and held in his own tears.

And Elrond cried.


	46. Justice

"Enough, Elladan!" Elrond slammed his cup down, and to his right, Arwen flinched.

Elladan stopped mid-sentence and looked at his father, his jaw clenching. "Enough of what, Adar?" he said mildly, but his voice was cold.

Elrond's voice was quiet, yet angered, when he answered. "You may hunt for the foul creatures, you may follow them and use your trickery to ensnare them and slay them, but you will never speak their language in this haven again. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, Adar." His tone was cutting sarcasm, and he turned away.

Elrohir, sitting beside his brother, bowed his head and continued eating. The only reason they had returned was the poison still biting into his leg, and he yet regretted coming back.


	47. The Nature of Evil

"NOOOO!"

Glorfindel's head snapped up at the anguished wail and he left the dead orcs he had been examining to run toward the voice, panic fueling his steps. He came upon a most desolate scene, one he would remember for the rest of time.

Elladan was clutching his mother, her body bloodied and broken. The twin's head was thrown back, screaming his anger and fear to the sky, then he bent over her, holding her tightly and shuddering fiercely. A few feet away, Elrohir was on his knees, tears streaming down his face as he desperately wiped blood from her face and searched for signs of life.

The beautiful daughter of the Lord and Lady of the Woods; the golden Lady of Imladris; beloved wife of Lord Elrond; mother to the Peredhil children; and one of the most enchanting, wise elves Glorfindel had yet met lay still, while her sons grieved above her.


	48. Language Lesson

When Glorfindel, graceful elf though he was, stubbed his toe on a block hammered into the ground just outside the stables, he let out a most uncouth curse that he had learned on one of his trips to Lothlórien, where some of the Galadhrim knew a few quite colorful oaths in Khuzdul. After the surprised outburst, Glorfindel hopped on one foot for a few long moments before his mind decided not to bombard his nerves with pain anymore and calmed down.

He sighed and placed his foot back on the ground, ready to continue with the day and making a mental note to have one of his minions move that block. He started toward the House, when he suddenly…saw…two…pair…of…grey…eyes…staring…up at him.

Oh horror. Glorfindel's own blue eyes went wide as saucers. "Boys, did you hear what I said?"

"What?" inquired Elrohir – at least, he thought he was Elrohir, with the blue beads in his hair – innocently. "Did you say something?"

"If you did, don't repeat it," Glorfindel instructed, then moved hurriedly away, remembering suddenly that he had a…an important meeting. Yes. With the Healing Rooms.

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other behind his back.

"That's a new one," Elrohir remarked.

"True," Elladan agreed, his chubby face serious. "I wonder what it means. Do you think it's Dwarvish?"

"Khuzdul, probably," said Elrohir with a shrug. "Which is the same thing. Don't know what it means, though. Let's go ask Ada."

~ Two minutes later ~

"GLORFINDEL! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN TEACHING MY SONS?!"


	49. A Simple Delight

"I have a new motto!" Glorfindel announced to the world. "I've decided to do this with much thought."

"You mean your old one; 'My hair is fabulous!' isn't good enough for you?" Erestor inquired innocently, and Glorfindel nodded, beaming.

Erestor suspected the Balrog-slayer was being vacuous on purpose.

"My new motto is now 'If it rhymes, it must be true!'" Glorfindel beamed and readied himself for applause.

There wasn't any, mostly because he was in Erestor's office and the adviser was the only one listening.

Erestor's face seemed to move in what seemed to be a smile, but Glorfindel could never be sure with him. "Oh, you mean anything that rhymes is true?"

"Well, it must be," said Glorfindel, and grinned.

"Ah." Erestor picked up a quill and went back to his work, the corner of his mouth suspiciously quirked.


	50. First Word

Elrond and Celebrían sat in the nursery, each holding one of their twin sons.

"Come on, Elladan," Celebrían coaxed. "Say, 'nana.'"

The elfling stared up at her for a long moment, then gurgled happily, flopping his head sideways to look over at his brother, who Elrond was rocking.

"You can do it," Elrond was saying, "say 'ada.' There you go, yes…"

Elrohir opened his mouth and both parents waited with bated breath – and then sighed disappointedly when all that came out was a giggle. The twin elflings' big grey eyes met across the room, and in sudden unison, both shrieked,

"EL!"

Celebrían and Elrond stared at each other.

"Did you hear that?" Elrond finally said. As if to confirm it, Elladan howled the first syllable of his brother's name again, and Elrohir followed suit.

Celebrían laughed. "I should have known that would be their first word."

"I think they were trying to say my name," Elrond said, grinning.

Celebrían made a face at him.


	51. On the Brink

"Erestor, give it back."

"No," said the adviser.

Glorfindel scowled at his friend, who was quick to keep the large oak table between them. He sighed heavily. "Really, Erestor?"

"Really, Glorfindel?" Erestor mimicked. "You know perfectly well not to bring this into council meetings." He waved the offending object at Glorfindel, and the Balrog-slayer lunged at it, but was stopped short by the table.

"It's vintage! Give it back!"

"That's not going to happen." Erestor stifled a laugh at Glorfindel's inelegant efforts to sneak around the table without Erestor keeping even with him.

"You know," Glorfindel tried to reason, "If Elrond comes in here, he'll see us acting ridiculous. He's used to it from me, but if he sees you doing it…"

"Good try." Erestor cast a glance backwards at the bookshelf behind him. He might be able to make it… "But Elrond is the one who made the rule that you can't bring things like this into official meetings. And with the Lothlórien envoy present, too!"

"Come on, Erestor, the meeting is over! Why can't you just give it to me?"

"That wouldn't prove my point," Erestor stated, and then turned and flung the item into the air. Glorfindel shrieked something behind him, but it was unintelligible as the object bounced along the top of the bookshelf, then clattered somewhere down at the end.

Erestor smiled and turned smugly to Glorfindel, who glowered at him. "And if you climb that bookshelf, I'm going to push it over with you on it."

"You're a heartless, cruel, conceited b –"

"Yes, yes, I know." Erestor waved his hand flippantly. "I've heard them all before." He was safe, now that Glorfindel didn't want him to give the item up, so he started gathering the papers that were still lying on the table from the meeting.

Glorfindel glared at the bookshelf, but he was already planning when the best time would be to come and sneak his wine bottle out.


	52. Learning

"Excuse me, Lord Elrond," Lindir said, ever politely.

The Lord of Imladris looked up at his Head Minstrel and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

Lindir hesitated, then plowed ahead. "Glorfindel said something the other day that I've been thinking on. It still doesn't make sense."

"What's that?" Elrond asked, somewhat amused that Lindir had come to ask him instead of Erestor.

"Well…" Lindir's forehead crinkled, but he was spared from speaking by the door bouncing open and a golden head popping in.

"Good day!" said Glorfindel cheerfully. "What I said was, 'If a pig loses its voice, would it be disgruntled?' It's a very intriguing question, actually." With that, he vanished back outside.

Lindir looked at Elrond helplessly. "I just…don't know the answer! Could you – could you possibly help?"

Elrond wondered about that for a long moment, then he smiled – a very strange smile, which looked as though he had just been stabbed in the finger with a sharp quill. "Why don't you go ask Erestor?"


	53. Hatred

"Here. This needs done as well." Erestor piled another stack of papers into Glorfindel's arms. The adviser paused and pursed his lips, then turned and snagged one last parchment from his desk. He dropped that onto the pile Glorfindel was holding. "There, I think that's all."

Glorfindel had a very unamused expression on his face. "You really expect me to do all of this during the week?"

"No, I need it done by tomorrow." Erestor swept around his desk and began ruffling through a mound of letters. "I'm sure you can find the time."

Glorfindel gaped at him. "I can't do all of this by tomorrow!"

Erestor just looked at him bemusedly. "Why not? I do five times that every day."

"You hate me," Glorfindel groaned, wishing he could throw it all in the air and run out. He couldn't, of course.

"That's to be debated," Erestor said coolly.

Glorfindel scowled, and Erestor laughed. "Of course I don't hate you. Now stop being silly and go work on that."

Glorfindel growled low under his breath and stomped out of the office.


	54. Cold

"Come on, Glorfindel!" Erestor sighed with impatience when his friend refused to leave the stables, something wrapped in the long sleeves of his robe.

"I can't," the golden-haired Elda explained patiently. "The kitten is cold; I need to keep her warm."

"This was just a routine inspection," Erestor complained. He glanced up at the rain pouring from the sky and scowled. "Fine, you keep the accursed cat, I'm going inside. I'm getting soaked." Grumbling under his breath, the adviser stomped toward the nearest building.

Ten minutes later, Glorfindel entered the building to find Erestor waiting near the door, the adviser once again dry and pristine. He jerked back from where he had been looking through the tapestries and looked at Glorfindel.

"I assume the kitten is safe then?" His voice was cool, but to Glorfindel's delight, he could detect the slightest tinge of worry.

Glorfindel smiled. "She's fine; I put her with Asfaloth to keep her warm."


	55. Hot

"I'm cool," Elrohir said, preening in his mirror. A moment later, an identical face appeared next to him and winked.

"So if you're cool, does that mean I'm hot?" Elladan said.

Elrohir stared for a moment, then rolled his eyes. "No, Elladan, don't be silly."

Elladan sighed dramatically, wiping his brow with one hand. "Is it hot in here, or is just me?"

"It's just you," Elrohir said automatically, feeling a cool breeze float past his face, then he huffed in frustration. "I can't believe I fell for that."

"I am so hot," Elladan complained.

Elrohir rolled his eyes again.


	56. Snow

"I hate snow," Erestor announced at random, glaring out the window at the falling flakes.

Glorfindel glanced over, not exactly surprised. "Why is that?" he asked cheerily.

"Because it's wet, and it always messes up my robes," groused the adviser.

"That's all?"

"Do I need another explanation?" Erestor looked annoyed, and he tugged the corners of his cloak tighter around himself, though he certainly didn't feel the cold.

Glorfindel hummed and took a sip out of the cup of hot tea he was holding. "No, I just thought it might be something more reasonable."

Erestor shot him an exasperated look. "Reasonable? Why would –"

"Oh, don't even," Glorfindel interrupted. "You are the most reasonable person I know, and that includes Elrond and other certain people who live in Lothlórien."

Sniffing in irritation, Erestor turned his gaze back to the window.

"It's not a compliment," said Glorfindel.

He didn't duck in time to avoid the mug that bounced off his head.


	57. Anyone of Us

"Lord Elrond." Erestor's voice was ice, and when Elrond looked over at him, the adviser's eyes were half-lidded and very unamused.

"Mm?" said Elrond, rolling up the parchment he had been perusing and placing it to the side.

Erestor held up a piece of paper. "This, my lord, is a letter sent from King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. It is about…your sons, and their conduct on the diplomatic mission that you decided to send them on."

"Oh, I see." Elrond reached for the letter and Erestor dropped it into his hands with an air of distaste. Scanning the contents of the sheet, Elrond's face slowly paled.

"They did what?!" the Lord of Imladris finally squeaked when he had finished. The letter fell from his hands as if it had burned him.

"Exactly my thoughts," Erestor remarked wryly, his annoyance abated somewhat at the hilariously horrified expression on Elrond's face.

Elrond buried his head in his hands and groaned. "I am never going to be able to look Thranduil in the eyes again. What am I going to do with my sons?"

"Oh, I'm sure you won't have to worry about them," Erestor remarked. "Anyone of us here will deal with them for you. I have an idea that includes the sewage system and a whole warehouse that needs inventoried. Choose the punishment and I shall make sure they execute it."

"I'm going to die of embarrassment," Elrond moaned. "Why did I ever decide to have sons? A girl would be much more obedient!"


	58. Friends Forever

Glorfindel's breath rattled in his lungs, and he blinked desperately to clear the fuzziness from his vision. A panicked face came into view, ebony hair falling over dark robes, and he could faintly feel someone frantically grasping his hand.

"Glorfindel! Glorfindel, don't fall asleep!" There was a sob, and Glorfindel recognized the choked voice. He tried to smile, but the agony shaking his whole body turned it into a grimace. Instead, he turned his pain-filled eyes to dark ones that were brimming with shocked tears, and forced his fingers to squeeze the hand that held his urgently.

"Don't cry," he managed to force out, letting out a small gasp when another wave of pain assaulted his senses, but he attempted to smile again. "You never cry."

The person vanished for a moment, then reappeared, his face looking like it was about to collapse. "And you can't die…not again," he whispered fiercely, his face swimming in Glorfindel's vision. "You're my only real friend – you can't die!"

"Sorry," Glorfindel gasped, feeling as though he should apologize for the darkness that was creeping into his sight and the terribly familiar splitting of his soul and body. He pulled on the other's hand, drawing his attention back. "We'll still be friends…I'll see you again – in Valinor, yes?"

The person bent over him pressed a hand to his own mouth, nodding. "Friends forever, Glorfindel." As if he was trying to reassure himself.

Glorfindel smiled then, his face dirtied, pale, and strained with pain, but he smiled nonetheless. He caught the dark eyes above him again, then he relaxed, his last breath in Middle Earth escaping into the frigid air. His hand slipped from the grasp and fell limply to his bloodied chest, and there was a shriek from the sky overhead as a Great Eagle once again witnessed the death of the golden lord.

The person above him bent over the lifeless body and cried, tears falling from his eyes to mix with the blood seeping from numerous wounds on Glorfindel's torso.


	59. Feuds

"Are you mourning for something? Maybe…life? Is that why you always wear black?"

"You know perfectly well why I wear black. Why do you wear your hair loose all the time? Proud of your golden curls? I've heard the theories of how the Balrog really killed you. It pulled you down by your –"

"Ai! That's not true, and you know it. But why don't you ever smile? Afraid you'll keel over if you let so much as a curl of the lips escape?"

"And you go around with a stupid grin on your face all the time! Smiles are cheap if you use them too often."

"Oh, please. That is absolutely ridiculous. But, you know, I think your parents forgot to give you a smile."

"Don't you dare insult my parents. They had plenty of smiles!"

"Yes, they just didn't give you any."

"And your parents didn't give you any brains!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Are you joking? I can never tell…you have the most atrocious –"

"HEY!"

Erestor and Glorfindel, startled, looked over at Lord Elrond, who was frowning at both of them. "I'm trying to work. Stop arguing, you two! Should I organize a match in the sparring yard?" With a huff, he stood up and left the room. As soon as he was gone –

"Maybe he should organize a match. We all know who'd win!"

"At brute strength, not at strategy or smarts. You don't even know the difference between a ratio and a scaling!"

"A what?"

"Exactly my point."

"That's all you are, point, point, point."

"Now you're getting pathetic. Going to – oh, don't you dare."

"Try and weasel your way out of this!"

"Stop it! Violence is never the answer! Put me down!"

"Glorfindel! PUT Erestor DOWN!"

Glorfindel set Erestor down sheepishly and smiled at Lord Elrond. "All in good fun?"

"You're on stable duty for the next two weeks."

"But I'm the Captain!"

"You shouldn't have made me angry."


	60. Hierarchy

"Erestor, I'd like you to personally oversee the new warehouse building, if you don't mind. I want it done right."

Erestor looked up from the notes he was scribbling on a parchment. "Of course, my lord." He went back to writing.

Elrond paused, and he sighed. "Erestor…how many times do I have to tell you not to call me lord?"

Erestor stopped writing and stared steadfastly at Elrond. "My lord," he said precisely. "I call you that because that is your title. It came not only from your heritage, but because of your accomplishments. You have not claimed the title of High King, though you easily could, but you are still the most powerful and well-known Lord in Middle Earth. My lord." And he returned to inscribing his notes.

Elrond huffed in annoyance.

Erestor just smiled.


	61. Falling

"What's this?" Glorfindel asked when Erestor walked up to him and pressed a piece of paper into his hand.

Erestor made a face like, 'Well, open it and see, silly.'

Strange how Erestor's expressions were so particular.

Glorfindel opened the folded paper and read it.

O! Glorfindel fair,

Who looked like a bear;

Pulled down by his hair

Cried, "Why? It's not fair!"

The maidens stood there,

And took in his stare;

It changed to a glare

Which just made them drool.

"Oh, well, look at this!" exclaimed Glorfindel happily.

Erestor waited. Then waited a little longer. Finally he was tired of Glorfindel beaming like an idiot at him. "It's a rhyme!" he said, and Glorfindel nodded. "Yes, I can see that."

"You said that your new motto was 'If it rhymes, it must be true'," Erestor reminded him.

"Oh, that silly thing. I changed it ages ago!"

"YOU JUST TOLD ME THIS MORNING."

Glorfindel sighed sadly and pocketed the piece of paper. "My dear Erestor," he said, trying to pat the adviser on the head but changing his mind at the last second because it looked like Erestor was about to bite him, "if you want to make fun of me, you really should do it with some better material than this."

"I wrote that!" howled Erestor, his skills severely insulted.

Glorfindel looked mildly surprised. "Really? I didn't know you were a poet!"

"Aw, I was a poet and you didn't know it?" Erestor mocked, then spun and stormed away.

Glorfindel scratched his head, then shrugged. Erestor, leaving with that witty rhyming remark, still felt like he had gotten the wrong end of the conversation.


	62. I Am Flying!

"Ada, why can't elves fly likes birds can?"

Lord Elrond looked down at his young son and raised an eyebrow at his most recent of odd questions. "Because, Elladan –" He hoped he wasn't Elrohir; they were hard to tell apart, "– we weren't made with wings. Therefore, we can't fly."

"Why don't we have wings?" the elfling persisted.

"Because Ilúvatar chose not to give us wings," Elrond said after wondering himself why they didn't have wings.

Elladan pondered that for a long moment. "Why didn't he give us wings?"

Elrond couldn't find an answer to that. "Go ask your mother."

Giving him a suspicious look, Elladan said slowly, "Have you ever tried flying yourself?"

Elrond remembered a time long ago when both he and his own twin brother had been convinced that they could fly and jumped off the roof of the nearby stables. He had twisted his ankle; Elros had almost broken his leg. "Yes, I have. And it didn't work."

"Oh." Elladan looked inordinately disappointed. "Okay." With that, the elfling vanished out the door of Elrond's study. Less than five minutes later, Elrond was startled to see two identical twins running back and forth in the hallway, shredded crimson tapestries flying behind them, and shrieking at the top of their lungs,

"I AM FLYING!"

"I AM FLYING!"


	63. Vanity

Elladan stared unblinking into the mirror before him. He saw himself standing…doing nothing. His face was expressionless, lips set in a firm line. Eyebrows were set low over clear grey eyes, long sable hair falling to his elbows.

Elladan scowled, and the image before him did the same. He smiled, and it repeated the action.

Looking at it more closely, Elladan could see the flecks of silver in his grey eyes, a trait inherited from his mother. Feeling a little mischievous, he crossed his eyes and tried to see the blurry reflection in the mirror. It didn't work, so he refocused his eyes and continued staring at himself.

His hair was out of place. Elladan flicked a dark strand over his shoulder.

The door to his room opened and someone came in, but Elladan didn't look away from himself. The person set down something that jangled, then walked over to Elladan.

Elladan smiled as the person came into view of the mirror, and identical grey eyes met.

"Admiring yourself in the mirror?" Elrohir teased. "Getting a little vain, aren't we?"

"Speak for yourself," Elladan said, and daintily smoothed his hair.


	64. The Image of Perfection

Glorfindel had decided not to join the celebrations tonight. Instead, he stood in the shadows and watched the mingling elves, their murmured conversations and quiet laughs trickling over to him. There was the occasional boisterous laugh as one of his warriors told an amusing story, and he could even see the few bottles of wine that were surreptitiously being passed around the group of minstrels playing their songs.

He didn't actually see or hear any of that, his thoughts turned inward. He knew how he appeared to everyone else – the famed Balrog-slayer returned by the Valar themselves, with startling blue eyes and golden hair that tumbled in glorious waves to his waist. The legends and songs that had been written about him were numbered beyond count, his adoring followers many...and yet he hated the attention at times.

He hated the fact that there had been many more heroes on that fateful day Gondolin fell, so many more who had done far more than him – Ecthelion, for example, who had killed the Lord of the Balrogs himself, and died in the attempt! – and yet he was the one sent back. Hadn't he completed his objective the first time around? Were his efforts in his previous life so pitiful that he needed to be given another chance to garner a better effort?

Hadn't he earned a respite from this entire dispute, the killing of mindless creatures? Glorfindel took a gulp from the goblet of wine he had snuck into the corner with him, still considering his second life. He had been returned to 'protect the immortal descendants of Turgon,' and had found that the only one was Elrond Peredhel, and later his children. Until such time as Elrond decided to sail – and his children with him (or not) – Glorfindel was to stay in Arda and keep them safe with his last breath.

That apparently extended to fighting the Úlairi as well. The face-off with the Witch-King of Angmar wasn't nearly as memorable as his fight with the Balrog, but it was still his most terrifying encounter in his second life – which was saying a lot, as he had fought almost every other imaginable creature since coming back.

Glorfindel's musings were suddenly and rudely interrupted when the goblet was snatched from his hand. Startled, he looked to his side to find Erestor next to him, tossing back the rest of the wine that had been in the chalice.

Erestor handed the cup back and sighed, surveying the scattered crowds before them. "Another typical night," he said, and cast a look sideways at Glorfindel. "I'm surprised you're not out there."

Glorfindel turned his now-empty goblet in his hands and peered into it. He finally shrugged and let his hands fall to his side. "Taking a break from everyone who wants a story," he offered, and Erestor apparently accepted it.

They fell into a peaceful silence, but Glorfindel's thoughts of Gondolin and his rebirth had been driven away by the dark-clad adviser. He found that he couldn't bring them back, and then discovered that he really didn't care.


	65. Inner Beauty

"You see? Lindir, the one with the harp right there," Glorfindel said, pointing out the dark-haired minstrel that was at the front of the group.

"Oh, everyone knows who the Head Minstrel is," assured the maiden with a grin.

"Good. Whenever you're ready – but preferably when he's in the middle of a complicated song-thingy," Glorfindel instructed, then snickered and moved away.

The elleth did indeed wait, moving closer across the floor of the Hall of Fire until she was only a dozen or so yards away. Then, when the shy minstrel looked up, his fingers dancing nimbly over the strings of his harp, she smiled boldly – and then winked right at him.

Lindir's fingers stuttered on the harp and the fluid notes lost their rhythm. The other musicians quickly caught up the slack he had caused and the song flowed on as beautiful as ever, but Lindir's cheeks were flushed and he ducked his head to continue playing.

The maiden smiled proudly and she looked over at Glorfindel, who grinned widely.


	66. Point of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only 1st person view drabble in the entire collection.

I was finishing my newest work when someone burst into my room, with wide eyes and a mass of dark brown curls. It was Arwen, oddly. She had never before come running to me when something had happened to her.

"Help me!" the elfling gasped, running to me and hiding behind the chair I was sitting in. I gave her a strange look, then glanced worriedly at the door she had just come through. No one was there.

"How may I help you?" I asked, wincing at my slightly terrified tone. I really didn't want anyone…important to come through looking for her. Had she done something naughty?

Arwen sounded a little embarrassed, though I couldn't see her face for she was still behind me. "I scared El accidentally and he spilled ink all over the report he was working on. Now he's mad at me."

"Um…did you apologize?" I offered, wondering which twin it was. Elrohir would be nicer and more understanding, while Elladan was just slightly hot-headed and would do things before he really thought about it first.

"No, I ran!" Arwen told me, as if it were obvious. "Protect me, please?"

I sighed. I never could resist elflings – not even the Peredhel twins when they were young – so I grudgingly nodded. "If he comes in here, just stay behind me and I won't say anything."

"Thank you!" Arwen exclaimed, popping her head out from behind me to give me a blinding smile. I smiled hesitantly back.

Well, if I was going to protect her, I might as well do it cheerily.

I returned to my work.


	67. Failed Attempt

Elrond sat silently beside his sleeping wife's bed. He studied her pale features; once merry and smiling, her silver eyes were closed in slumber, dark circles underneath. Her lips were cracked and bloodless, her cheeks drawn and gaunt. A long, barely-healing scar ran from the bottom of her pointed ear to her collarbone, just barely shallow enough to avoid cutting a vital artery.

The rest of her body, one he had labored over for hours to try and heal, was covered in cuts, packed and bandaged – the white cloths that were now spotting with blood swathed her entire torso, and most of her legs.

The once-exquisite wife of the ruler of Imladris who was renowned to be 'powerful' was marred by the filthiest creatures to walk earth. She was still beautiful in Elrond's eyes, though, just diminished in spirit…and fading.

Elrond could no longer deny the obvious. He had thought that he would be strong enough – his healing powers would be adequate – but he was wrong. She was obviously fading from this world, her skin already becoming translucent enough to see the slow-beating blood vessels beneath. Sleep was the only comfort she had now, her waking hours haunted by remembered visions of the foul beasts that had blemished her body and soul.

Celebrían stirred now, the memories Elrond had pushed away returning. Her eyelids flickered and she let out a pained whimper, but Elrond was there immediately. He reached out and wrapped long fingers around her slender broken ones, the nail-beds raw and reddened from where the orcs had pulled her fingernails out. Fighting off furious thoughts of revenge – she needed him here right now – Elrond curled his fingers around her hand and tightened reassuringly.

Celebrían tensed in her sleep for a moment, but then she sighed and lapsed back into comfortable memories of happier times. The ring on Elrond's hand flashed a dull white for a moment, visible only to him, but then it faded back to its original color and remained silent.

Elrond released a shuddering breath and he waited for dawn and the return of his wife's consciousness and terror.


	68. Oaths

Elladan and Elrohir, the twin Peredhil brothers, sat on a tree. It was nearly dead, and was bent so far it almost touched the ground, but not quite. Neither of the elves were talking, but sat back to back, swinging their legs on either sides of the tree.

Then Elrohir broke the silence. "Elladan…do you remember our oaths?"

"Of course I do." Elladan leant back and tilted his head up to the sky, soaking in the warm rays.

"Do you think…?" Elrohir shrugged, then continued, "that possibly Nana would not have agreed with us risking our lives to avenge her?"

"She probably wouldn't," Elladan said, glancing over his shoulder at his brother. "What sparked this question?"

Elrohir shrugged, the movement bumping Elladan. "I don't know. It just popped into my head."

Elladan hummed, and they both fell back to silence, swinging their legs.


	69. From Afar

"You see? It's just over that mountain there? The ram, running up the side."

Elrohir raised an eyebrow at his friend, then turned to look at the distant mountain. He squinted and shook his head after a moment. "I still don't see it."

The other guard sighed and shook his head. "Oh well, I guess I was imagining it."

Elrohir rolled his eyes and glanced over at the fire a few hundred yards away, where a few more warriors were gathered around, talking and occasionally tossing something in the flames. "Hey, Elladan!" he called, raising his voice, and his brother glanced over.

Elrohir pointed at the mountain. "Can you see a mountain goat up there?"

Elladan looked carefully at it, scanning the ridges and the hillocks for any sign of the animal. A few seconds later, his brow creased and he shook his head. "Not there!" he told Elrohir.

Elrohir checked once more to make sure, then happened to look over at his friend. The dark-haired warrior was laughing silently, and Elrohir shoved at his shoulder. "You were making that up!"

"No, really, I wasn't," he said, wiping at his eyes because he was laughing so hard. "It just ran over the top of the hill before you saw it."

Elrohir suddenly leapt back with a startled shout. "Spider!"

His friend yelped and batted at his hair. "Where?!"

Elrohir collapsed in laughter.


	70. I Am Still Here

"Erestor!"

"But you need to write the report, or do you want any other patrols to get hurt when they go there? It should be done by…" Erestor trailed off, raising an eyebrow at the annoyed glower Glorfindel was shooting him.

"I'm wounded," the Balrog-slayer complained, holding a hand to his bandaged side as he tried to keep up with the adviser's brisk walk.

"Oh, pff, you've been worse." Erestor waved off his complaints and shoved a bundle of papers into his hands. "There, fill that in then give it to me by tomorrow evening." With that, he turned and left, black robes swishing around his ankles.

"But I'm wounded," Glorfindel called after the retreating back, and huffed when the adviser flapped his hand dismissively and kept walking. "At least I'm still here!" he tried as a last resort. "What if I had died on that patrol?"

"You wouldn't die," Erestor said over his shoulder, the answer already thought up, and he continued on. "Why would the Valar send you back just to die on a mission I sent you to?"

Glorfindel glanced down at the papers, then let out a very undignified howl. "Sixty-two papers?! What do you think I am, Erestor, a writing machine?"

Erestor rolled his eyes.


	71. Arrow

"Unca Ha'dir," piped a voice from below.

Haldir, Marchwarden of 'Lórien, and reduced to babysitting a pair of elflings, looked down resignedly at Elladan. "Yes, pen-neth?"

Elladan's eyes were wide and pleading. He held up a tiny arrow clutched in his small fist, and a bow in the other hand. "Can you teach me to shoots?" Elrohir peeked out from behind his older brother and blinked hopefully.

Haldir sighed. "Fine," he said, and reached down for the blunted arrow. It was sticky when place in his hand, and he grimaced before taking the miniscule bow as well. Kneeling, he fit the arrow to the little string. He pulled it back carefully, making sure not to go very far, or he would break the small bow.

"Pull it back like this," he instructed, and then handed the bow to Elladan.

Elladan giggled happily, and then did as he was told, raising the bow to his shoulder like he had seen older archers practice. Haldir made sure he knew how to draw the string back correctly, and then turned to Elrohir.

"And yours?"

Elrohir, with adoration evident in his eyes, handed up his set of weapons that were fit to his size. "Thank you," he squeaked as Haldir began to re-demonstrate the right way to handle the bow.

Haldir tried to resist the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You're welcome."

A moment later, an arrow stuck in his thigh. Elladan squeaked and ran.


	72. Lifeline

Glorfindel noticed the laughter coming from the training fields, and he might have left it as young warrior mischief, except that he heard a familiar name come from someone's mouth. He stood behind a tree and listened for a moment to the new trainees from Lothlórien.

Someone laughed. "Did you see that older Peredhel? All grim-faced and dour, and then that younger one, walking all despondently like a little lost lamb."

The other laughed, and someone else interjected, "Ah! I heard one of them last night, crying his poor eyes out in the library when he thought no one was there."

A roar of amusement was heard at this, and Glorfindel's eyes darkened. He restrained himself from moving, to see what these younglings truly thought of the twins, and if any would defend them.

"And," some wise soul added, "I heard one of them begging Lord Erestor for some book his poor mother liked."

Before they could even express their enjoyment of that statement, golden fury moved upon them and the main mockers' bodies were flung to the ground. Glorfindel stood over them, terrible in his splendor, and he glared at them.

"They found their mother, you fools!"

A silence had fallen, and their eyes were wide with terror. Not one moved.

Glorfindel laughed mirthlessly. "Do not speak of which you know nothing about. You've started off quite well here, younglings. I can send you back." He turned on his heel and left, away from the temptation of pounding heads together.

Who had ever heard of someone getting sense knocked into them, anyway?


	73. Destruction

It really wasn't his business, but Lindir didn't get up and leave when the two horses stumbled into the courtyard from the front gate. He sat silently, the flute lowered into his lap, as Elladan and Elrohir practically fell from their horses, exhaustion weighing down their features.

Lord Elrond came into the courtyard a moment later, Erestor following him with a disapproving moue. They ordered a few servants nearby to assist with the horses, and then helped the twins out of the courtyard and toward the Healing Rooms.

Lindir couldn't help but notice the blood that stained Elladan's tunic, and Elrohir's limp that he tried to conceal. Their faces were cold, though, and Lindir couldn't bring himself to go aid them. He just watched quietly as they were supported by Lord Elrond and Erestor, sure that they would leave again within the next few days.


	74. Hidden

"Elrond? What is it?" Glorfindel looked over at his friend, who was staring out across the landscape of Imladris.

"I don't know," Elrond murmured, his eyes seeming to search for something and his fingers curling tightly around the balcony railing. "I sense that something is going to happen – something...wrong, but I cannot see it. It is hidden from me."

"What is hidden from you?" Glorfindel prompted, and suddenly Elrond's head jerked up in realization. "Celebrían!"

"Yes, we just received word that she's on her way back from Lothlórien," said Glorfindel, seeing that his Lord was understanding something that he was not.

"The Redhorn pass," Elrond breathed, then spun to Glorfindel. "I may just be acting overly cautious," he said, the words tumbling over themselves, "but I want you to send up a company up to greet Celebrían on her way back. Make it fast!"

"Yes, my lord, immediately," said Glorfindel, and bowed before rushing away, golden hair streaming behind him.

Elrond turned back to view the land again, his brow furrowed in anxiety. Something wasn't right, he could feel that in his very bones, but he didn't know what. It was just a cloud of black worry pressing upon him from all sides, telling to take action and move! He couldn't though – he was needed here. The next best thing was to send a regiment of warriors to meet Celebrían's party, just to make sure nothing happened.

Only a few minutes later, Elrond saw activity at the stables. Elves were rushing here and there, readying their horses and slinging armor and weapons on. Within another five minutes, they were all mounted and ready to ride out. Then he saw the familiar and identical forms of his sons, their horses abreast and they were laughing.

The concern he felt hadn't affected them, then. They were going to ride up to meet their mother and escort her back. Though that should have reassured Elrond, he didn't feel any better. Instead he felt a coil of tension writhing in his stomach, building like the heaviness in the air before a storm.

And he felt absolutely terrified for the first time in centuries.


	76. Harbor

Celebrían, twining silver ribbons into her long blonde hair, ducked out of the bathing chambers and into her room. Her eyes twinkled with mirth when she caught sight of her husband, fully dressed and standing in the middle of the room. He had a pair of unlaced boots in his hand and was looking around the room in bewilderment.

"What's wrong, Elrond?" Celebrían asked, tying off the last of the ribbons and padding toward him.

Elrond huffed in frustration and turned, his gaze searching the room. "I can't find one pair of stockings here! There's a few that don't have any mates, but most are gone. I had them all yesterday – this doesn't make any sense!"

"Ah." Celebrían couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, I was wondering why your socks were in Elladan and Elrohir's room. They rescued them from here last night, apparently, and are harboring them under their bed."

Elrond snorted with laughter. "They're hoarding my stockings? Well, that's new."

"You can borrow mine," Celebrían suggested with a mischievous smile, tugging the boots out of his hands and setting them on the nearby bed.

Elrond raised his infamous eyebrow. "I don't think so – I'll just go without today." He seated himself on the bedcovers and began pulling his boots on.

"Well, I'm already done," Celebrían said, heading toward the door and blowing him a kiss right before she left the room. "I'm going to go make sure the boys are ready, and that they aren't terrorizing their poor nurse."


	77. Halfway

Glorfindel, walking inside his room, paused briefly at the desk that he would use to carve statues from memory. His gaze caught on the large chunk of partially completed wood sitting on the end of a shelf, its only completed features glaring fiercely at him and part of a fiery sword extended. He sighed and ran his fingers over the unfinished part, flinching at the memories of fire pain shadows that assaulted him, and tugged his hand away.

Turning his attention away from the carving, he glanced over the rest of the room and the few dirty areas – the corners where he tossed his clothes in the general direction of the laundry hamper, the assorted rusted weapons he had collected and piled in heaps near the window, and more than a few chests full of various gifts he had received over the years.

His attention skipped over it, used to it all, and he instead went into his bedchambers. He examined his large bed for a long moment, then in a moment of unsurprising immaturity, leaped into the air and bounced across the bed. He landed on his stomach, laughing quietly, and let the blankets settle around him. His head had ended up directly beside the edge of the bed, and he rested his chin on the corner as he trailed his hand over the side, his golden hair tumbled all around him.

Pondering different things, his mind slowly wandered into what mortals would call sleep, and his blue eyes glazed over, staring unseeingly at the yellow-painted wall across from him.


	78. Spies

"Good day, Glorfindel," Erestor said for the third time in the past five minutes. Typically, the golden-haired warrior ignored him.

"– but then he said that he had put the training swords in the spear rack!" Glorfindel rambled on, apparently talking about the events in his day before he had come to bother Erestor. The adviser had no idea why Glorfindel came to annoy him, but it wasn't like Erestor listened anyway.

Erestor sighed. He had been trying to get out of his study for a while, but was still too polite to shove Glorfindel out of the way and just walk by. The Elda was literally standing in the middle of the doorway, taking up the whole space. Finally, Erestor was tired of hearing Glorfindel blabbing about the weapons being put in the wrong place.

"Spies, all of them!" Glorfindel said, and then Erestor interrupted him, finally growing too impatient.

"EXCUSE ME, GLORFINDEL."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow and stepped aside. "Well, you didn't have to _yell."_


	79. Flaunting

When Arwen walked into the dining room, her ever-attentive brothers immediately noticed something different about her.

"What's that?" asked Elladan suspiciously, pointing at the delicate filigree brooch that was pinned securely to the bodice of her gown.

"Oh." Arwen flipped her hair daintily as she settled herself into the seat next to her mother, who was smiling as they began eating. "Just something an admirer gave me."

Elladan and Elrohir both rose to their feet immediately, faces darkening. "Who dares to court our sister without our permission?"

Celebrían choked as she tried to swallow and contain her laughter at the same time, and Elrond patted her on the back before turning exasperatedly to his sons. "Boys, sit down. No one is courting Arwen, certainly not without my knowledge."

The two slowly returned to their seats, still glowering.

Arwen twirled a bit of pastry around her fork as she cast her brothers a mischievous look. "I think you're just jealous that you don't have any admirers."

Elladan just laughed, then leaned over and patted her on the head. "Oh, you poor thing – you only have one person that's brave enough to approach you, while myself…" He sighed. "I have so many I don't know what to do with them."

"That's because they don't exist," Elrohir snorted.

Elladan gave him an annoyed look. "That's what you think."

"No, that's what I want you to think that I think."

"Aha!" Elladan crowed. "That's exactly what I wanted to think that I wanted you to think that you think."

Elrohir smirked. "I know that's what you wanted me to think that you wanted me to think, but really –"

"That's what I wanted you to think," they said in unison, then turned at the same time and smiled at Arwen.

"So…when can we meet this admirer of yours?"


	80. Cowardice

"Define the word 'harm,' Erestor," Glorfindel challenged, leaning back in his seat and sipping at his goblet of wine.

Erestor considered it for a moment as he watched the chess board between them, absently deciding his next move. "I think it would be when someone has been emotionally wounded, a blow to their soul. Something that can never be forgotten."

Glorfindel tilted his head and regarded the dark-haired adviser curiously. "What would you call physical pain, then, harm to the body?"

"Well, that's 'hurt,' of course," Erestor replied promptly. "Harm is emotional, hurt is physical."

"That seems reasonable enough," Glorfindel agreed after a moment.

Erestor moved a rook sideways.

"What then would you call something of a lesser harm, something forgotten?" queried Glorfindel, his fingers twitching as he wondered which chess piece to move.

Erestor shrugged. "It needs no label if it doesn't last."

"But hurt doesn't last; why then does it need a name?" Glorfindel said, thinking on his own death and the not-permanence of it.

"What would I know of pain such as you have endured?" Erestor retorted. "And why would it not need a name?"

"You tell me why it would," said Glorfindel, seeing the glint in his friend's eyes. He moved a pawn forward to protect his knight.

"Nameless things are feared, but if they have been given a title, the potency of their fear abates." Erestor took a deep drink from his own cup. " 'Hurt' has a name, therefore it is lessened. Would you not be more wary of it than if it was unnamed, something to be afraid of and to shy away from?"

"I have fought the Nameless before," Glorfindel argued. They both knew what he meant.

"But did you not feel more fear?"

Glorfindel said something under his breath and swallowed the rest of his wine. "Fear doesn't make a warrior less courageous," he said, rolling the cup in his fingers and then placing it beside the board game.

"I never implied that," Erestor said.

Glorfindel stared at him, then snorted. "How did we even get into this conversation?"

"It's your fault," Erestor said immediately. "I was happy to talk about politics, but no…"

"Shut up," Glorfindel said pleasantly.

A chess piece that had been taken from the board bounced off his head, and then Erestor pushed his queen forward. "Checkmate."


	81. Far-Fetched

Glorfindel bounded happily down the hall, his golden hair flying behind him. He saw the door to Erestor's office ahead and he went right to it, throwing it open with his usual excitement. "Erestor!" he exclaimed – and then stopped. His jaw dropped open in shock and he stared.

"E – Erestor?"

The dark-haired adviser broke off the kiss he had been involved in and turned to look at Glorfindel. "What?" A delicate-faced silver-haired elleth peeked over his shoulder, and upon seeing Glorfindel, offered him a sweet smile.

"What – what? You aren't married!" Glorfindel stammered, seriously thinking he had just lost his mind.

Erestor looked offended. "Of course I am! How could you forget my lovely wife and our children?" He gestured at the other door to his office, and two tiny heads peeked through, one with dark hair like Erestor's, and the other fair-headed.

"What?" Glorfindel squeaked. He had missed his friend's wedding?

"Oh dear," said the strange elf-woman who was apparently Erestor's wife. She gave Glorfindel a worried look. "Are you well? You look…pale."

"Gck," Glorfindel managed, then fainted.

Glorfindel sat up in bed, his eyes wide and glazed. He uttered a short scream, then leaped from his bed and ran out of his room. Dashing toward Erestor's office, he made it there and flung the door open, breath caught.

Erestor turned and gave him an annoyed look. "What, Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel looked around the room frantically. "Where is she? How did I miss the wedding? Where are the children?"

Erestor blinked. He took a cautious step back and peered at Glorfindel with concern. "Excuse me? What are you talking about?"

"Your wife!" Glorfindel exclaimed.

Erestor choked. "What? I don't have a wife!"

"Yes, you do!" Glorfindel looked around the room again and noted the bare walls, the neatly organized bookshelves, and the immaculate desk that Erestor was standing before. He closed his eyes and shook his head, then opened them again once more. "Are you sure you aren't married?"

Erestor was regarding him strangely. He edged slowly around the desk and surreptitiously slipped a heavy paperweight into his hand. "Yes…" the adviser said slowly. "I am not married."

"Oh." Glorfindel scratched his head and turned to walk out the door, muttering something about 'missing a wedding celebration and good wine.'

As soon as he was gone, Erestor dashed over to the door and immediately locked it.


	82. Fickle

"I'm sorry, meleth, I can't eat this," Celebrían said, pushing the plate of food away from her with an apologetic look on her fair face. "The baby is protesting."

Elrond made a mock horrified face at his wife's rounded stomach. "You naughty little girl, you! Keeping your mother from eating!"

Celebrían laughed, and Elrond turned his head to call to the door, "Elladan! Elrohir! One of you come here, please!"

Only a moment later, the door bounced open and a dark head popped through. It was Elladan, his eyes gleaming with laughter at something Elrohir had just told him. "Yes, Ada?"

"Can you fetch something else for your mother to eat?"

"Of course. What would you like, Nana?"

She hesitated, then a pensive expression crossed her face. "Are there any of those sweet rolls from breakfast left over?"

"I'm sure the cooks would be pleased to provide some," said Elladan. He grinned. "Anything else?"

"A glass of sweetened milk?"

Elladan bowed theatrically. "Right away, my lady." He vanished, the door clicking shut behind him.

Elrond raised an eyebrow at Celebrían. "It seems your sweets craving has resurfaced."

"Oh, shush," she said, elbowing him. "You know you're going to eat some of my rolls when they get here."

"That's true," Elrond admitted unashamedly, and that famous Peredhil grin his sons had inherited appeared.


	83. Fight On

Arwen shifted in her saddle as her mare stomped impatiently. She collected the reins in her hand and nudged gently with her foot. The horse turned, snorting, and started toward the gate. Around her, the escort moved forward as well.

"Wait!" A cry came from behind her, and she stopped in time to see her father running inelegantly down the steps. His robes flapping around his ankles, he came even with her horse and looked up at her, his intent clear.

"I'm sorry, Ada," Arwen said, not able to meet his piercing grey eyes. She turned her head away. "I am being selfish. I cannot bear your grief as well as mine anymore…and the twins...I must go."

"I know," Elrond said quietly. He hesitated, then reached up and pressed a round object into her hand. Arwen didn't look at it, but she caught a glimpse of silver inscribing before she slipped it into her pocket.

"Your mother's betrothal ring," Elrond said simply. "Go swiftly," he added in a hushed voice, and then stepped back and let her continue on.


	84. Threads

"Goodness, Elladan, how did you do this?" Arwen exclaimed, holding up the tattered shirt and waving it at her oldest brother.

He had the good grace to look sheepish. "Um…I challenged Glorfindel to a sword duel – he won, of course – and then Elrohir and I went on a short patrol, then I chased –"

"Never mind!" Arwen interrupted. "I don't want to know!" She picked at the only thread that seemed to be holding the mess together. "Oh…" she sighed, "I think this will be very hard to fix."

"Sorry, Arwen," Elladan offered. "I could get you something to make up for it?"

"You'd have to get me a horse to make up for this," Arwen grumbled good-naturedly. When a mischievous gleam entered his eyes, she hastily added, "No, just get me a slice of pie or something. After all, what are sisters for but to mend their annoying brothers' clothes?" She stuck her tongue out as he hurried to fetch the food she requested.


	85. Parlay

Erestor stared at Glorfindel suspiciously, a fact Glorfindel might have pretended to be mock-hurt by if he wasn't so amused.

"What's the catch?" Erestor finally said.

"Catch?" Glorfindel endeavored to look offended. It didn't work. "Why, there is no catch! I just want you to help me find Elrohir! The boys and I were playing a hiding game, and Elrohir has hidden in the garden so well that we cannot find him! Elladan is still searching; will you help us?"

Erestor stared for a very long moment. "Why can't you get their parents?"

"Oh, they're busy," said Glorfindel, flicking his hand impatiently. "But we need to hurry, or Elrohir will get impatient and come out, and we'll lose the game!"

"Humph," said Erestor finally. He stood and stretched, then brushed his ebony hair over his shoulders. "Fine, I will help, but only because of Elrohir." He strode toward the door of his office and headed toward the gardens, and Glorfindel followed with a triumphant grin on his face.


	86. My Weapon's Name

"All right, everyone, you're dismissed," Glorfindel called over the sheathing of sword blades. A practice session in defensive coordination had just ended, and now everyone scattered to other duties, or to put up their weapon. One student, near the back of the group, had moved forward and was standing near Glorfindel with an obvious intent to speak to him.

"Excellent parry," Glorfindel approved as a young guard went past. He blushed and smiled, then continued on. Glorfindel looked around and caught sight of someone nearby with a question evident in their expression. "Can I help you, pen-neth?" Glorfindel asked, turning to them.

"Ah…" The warrior-in-training nodded shyly. "You were talking about the names of our swords, what we should call them…that they were as much a part of our survival as anything else we bring with us on patrol –"

"– and they're simply an extension of your body," Glorfindel finished, and smiled. "I'm glad you see you were paying attention."

The student smiled and scuffed the ground with a foot, then continued, "I was wondering, since you've named your sword, I think, what the name of it was?"

"My sword?" Glorfindel ran his fingers over the hilt of his sword. "Well, you wouldn't understand the name, it's a different language than we use here, but it means 'Protector.' As Captain of the Guard, it seemed appropriate when this was given to me."

Eyes alit in interest, but the young guard remained polite. "Who gave it to you, my lord?"

Glorfindel smiled and released the sword, then patted him on the shoulder. "That is a very long story, and one for another time. Meanwhile, why don't you go ahead and put up your sword – the dinner bell will be tolling soon."

The guard nodded quickly, then hurried toward the quarters where they kept the weapons. Glorfindel hummed a low tune under his breath and followed the engraving on the hilt of his sword with his fingertips again. "My weapon's name," he mused under his breath, remembering an ancient warrior with a silver crown on his brow, diamonds in his hair, and the stars in his eyes.

Glorfindel chuckled and followed the guard.


	87. On My Own

"'Glorfy, I didn't mean to, I promise!" Tearful grey eyes stared up at the Balrog-slayer, hoping he wouldn't be too angry about the accident.

Glorfindel looked at the item that had been broken. He gave Elrohir a serious gaze, hiding his own inner turmoil at what had happened. "Go fetch Elladan, and I will find out what really happened." He turned the silver brooch over in his hand and read the engraving stamped there. It was in Quenya, but easy to read for one who had once spoken the ancient language.

_For my darling golden-haired boy, from your loving Naneth._


	88. Murderer

The door burst open to Erestor's study and a tiny elfling darted in, screaming at the top of her lungs. She didn't pause, but shot over to Erestor's desk, rounded the corner, and clambered up onto the adviser's lap.

Erestor sat there stunned for a moment before he looked down at the still-screaming elfling. "Arwen," he said, trying to use a calm voice, "what are you doing?"

"They have a spee-ider!" Arwen squeaked, managing to stop screaming. She buried her face in Erestor's robes. Her voice was considerably more muffled when she spoke again. "And they is chasing me with it!"

"Who are 'they'?" inquired Erestor, and gave the open door a suspicious look – just as a pair of identical fully-grown elves dashed through. They skidded to a stop immediately upon seeing Erestor's glare, and both affected innocent expressions.

"Elladan," Erestor addressed the elder of the twins. "What, exactly, are you doing?"

The one on the right shuffled his feet awkwardly. "We were just teasing her."

Erestor arched an eyebrow, seeming to mimic Lord Elrond. "Oh? She didn't seem to like it."

"I didn't wike it," Arwen asserted, popping her head up for a brief moment before hiding her head again.

"It's not even alive," Elrohir tried to convince her, lifting up a massive spider almost the size of his hand. It flopped limply, and Erestor didn't manage to contain a shudder.

"Get that filthy creature out of here!" he ordered.

Arwen slowly peered over the edge of the desk to look at her older brothers again. "You killed it?" she whispered.

"Yes, it's dead," Elrohir said, and wiggled it.

Arwen's eyes popped. "You is a murderer!" She screamed and slid off Erestor's lap, then dove under his chair where she wrapped herself in the ends of Erestor's robes.

Erestor glowered at the two. "Get out."

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged odd looks before they turned and scurried out. Erestor could still hear them whispering – no doubt planning something else to torment a family member.


	89. Mixed Feelings

Erestor sat quietly in the dark and stillness of his room, a fire flickering across from him. He was pondering his position as Chief Counselor in Imladris. Well – he was considering more his friends here.

There was Lord Elrond, the first person who came to mind. He had known the Peredhel for centuries, maybe for millennia. He couldn't even remember when he first met him. Lord Elrond was a wise ruler of the valley, though incredibly and annoyingly disorganized. Erestor absolutely despised going into his study, since the desk was a terrible mess and it drove him crazy. Once, Erestor had made the mistake of organizing it like his own office, and Lord Elrond hadn't been able to find anything for weeks.

Then there were Lord Elrond's children, the twins and Arwen, though he found it hard to think of them as anything other than his former students. After all, he had tutored each personally in the basic subjects as a favor to Lord Elrond, who only wanted the best for his young sons and daughter.

Elrond's wife, too, had been a good friend before she sailed; wise and thoughtful as her mother; generous and kind as her father; and with a wide mischievous streak he knew she got from both parents and was passed on to her children.

And of course, Glorfindel. Erestor had mixed feelings on the Balrog-slayer – he could never make up his mind whether the warrior was his sworn enemy and nemesis, or his best friend in the whole of Imladris. Glorfindel was annoying, bright and cheerful, talked too much, had a roguish tendency a mile wide, tended to resort to violence too often, and never wore anything that could be even faintly considered dull or dark. On the other hand; he was happy – even though Erestor hated it sometimes, Glorfindel could cheer him up – he usually turned his patrol reports in on time; and he was a wonderful Captain. Oh, and good with elflings, unlike Erestor. When Elladan and Elrohir had been young, but no less mischievous, Glorfindel was their official hero. He was also their trainer in weaponry and hand-to-hand combat. Without his training, they would have died a hundred times over when on their orc hunts avenging their mother.

Enough about Glorfindel, though. Who else was there?

Erestor came to realize after a moment's thought that he really didn't have many friends. And then he stared into the wavering flames of the fire and pulled the edges of his robes closer to himself.


	90. Fountain

Glorfindel couldn't look away from the fountain. It was situated in the middle of the courtyard, with high pillars of water spurting from them, and swirls of liquid running down the marbles sides into the shallow pool. His eyes, dark blue now, were trained on the crashing of foam against the water and if anyone looked closely at him, they could tell he was trembling ever-so-slightly.

He wasn't seeing the fountain, of course. He was remembering flashes of dark hair, the roaring of flames and a gaping maw; then a scream, wild and feral, as two opponents fell together into a deep fountain that looked far too similar to this one. A call from behind him. "Leave him, Glorfindel, protect the women and children!"

A hand suddenly fell on his shoulder and he flinched, barely able to keep himself from lashing out at the intruder. His gaze left the fountain, however, and he turned his head slightly to see Elrond standing beside him, appearing slightly worried. "Are you well, Glorfindel?

Glorfindel looked back at the fountain, the memories receding back into the place where he usually kept them, and he returned fully to the present. He faced Elrond and gave him a blinding smile. "Of course, of course! Just recalled something from a time ago."

Elrond didn't look convinced, but nodded. "Join us for dinner on the patio?"

"Sure," Glorfindel agreed, but gave the fountain a last haunted look over his shoulder as he followed Elrond.


	91. Hunting

Glorfindel prowled through the kitchens, feeling very much like a hunter as he searched for his prey. He opened cabinets, pantry closet doors, shelves, pulled open drawers – and then he finally found the sweet pastries hidden in plain sight in the washbasin, covered with a clean cloth.

Glorfindel picked up the plate and walked out of the kitchens, munching happily on them. The cooks had definitely tried harder to keep them from him tonight, but they would have to up their game. He had found them far easier than last night.

He was halfway through the whole plate and crumbs were sticking all over his hands and chin, when he saw a light on underneath an office door. It was, of course, Erestor's study, and no doubt the adviser was working early into the morning again. He crept past the door, feeling like a naughty elfling, and trying not to be heard.

He had almost made it out of view when he heard the lantern in the room sputter and go out. The only light left in the hallway was from the moon shining through the high windows, and Glorfindel waited for the sound of Erestor getting up and replacing the light…but it didn't come. Curious now, Glorfindel crept over to the half-open door and peeked in.

He saw Erestor immediately, slumped across his desk and deep in sleep, a candle casting a dim light on his pale face. His face was turned toward the door, eyes partly open, and lines of weariness drawn across his brow. A quill lay beside his still fingers, and his head rested next to a letter that wasn't finished.

Glorfindel sighed and slipped inside, stealthily making his way to the closet in the far corner of the room. He opened the door and grabbed the blanket on the top shelf, then, putting his almost-empty plate of sweets on the desk, arranged the blanket across Erestor's slumbering form. Satisfied, he pinched out the flames of the flickering candle. Scooping up his plate, he again headed for the door, closing it quietly behind him, then he went on down the hallway, continuing his midnight snack fest with considerably more delight than before.


	92. Letters

"Nana, Ada, look, I did-ded my wetters!" bubbled Arwen, bouncing up onto the couch between her parents. Elrond raised an eyebrow at Celebrían, and she mouthed 'letters' to him.

"You did?" Elrond exclaimed, catching on. "Well, let's see them!"

Arwen produced the folded sheet of paper from behind her back and handed it proudly to Elrond, who opened it. He moved his head aside to Celebrían could examine it as well.

"This is wonderful, penneth!" Celebrían said, pulling her daughter onto her lap and kissing her head of dark curls. "Did Erestor help you with this?"

"No, I did-ded it all by mythelf," Arwen said proudly. "He thaid that I was vewwy thmart and I wath an angel compare-ded to my bwothers."

"She's talking in code, I think," Elrond remarked casually, but she didn't get it and he refolded the paper, then leaned forward to press a kiss to her chubby cheek. "Good job, my dear. I am very proud of you!"

Arwen beamed.


	93. Deadlines

"GIVE ME MY PAPERS BACK!" roared Erestor, sprinting down the hall after Glorfindel, who was cackling gleefully as he danced just out of reach, the parchments fluttering over his head.

Elrond watched the two go by with a calm look on his face, and he turned back to the envoy from Lothlórien. "Yes, that's my Captain of the Guard and Chief Councilor," he said in response to the gaping jaws. "They act quite…childish at times, but as long as they meet the deadlines I put, they're fine."

"Glorfindel!" came a shriek from down the hall, and Elrond smiled congenially. "This way, if you will," he said, and led the diplomats toward the Hall of Fire.


	94. I Know You, But Where?

"Next!"

A female elf with wavy dark brown hair stepped up in front of Erestor, who had just scribbled something on his list of elves moving to Imladris. He glanced up at her. "Name?"

"Lisondrë," she said simply.

Erestor raised an eyebrow at the lack of last name, but wrote it down in the next empty space. "Abilities or occupation desire?"

"I was a scribe," the elf-maiden said. "In Lindon."

Erestor's head came up sharply and he stared at her for a long moment. "I know you," he mused slowly. "But where…?"

She chuckled. "I helped one of the librarians. I saw you in the library almost every day, chewing on the tip of your quill as you looked for some book on a list – like you're doing right now."

Erestor reddened faintly and jerked the tip of the feather out of his mouth. "Well," he said, scanning his paper once more and regaining his composure. "Would you like to be placed as one of the librarians here? We have one space left."

"That would be wonderful, my lord," she said, and as soon as Erestor made the notation, he called for the next person, and she continued on.


	95. A Difficult Road

Celeborn, Lord of the Golden Woods, stood in a quiet nursery as he held a pair of identical elflings in his arms. He looked down on their serene faces, chubby and drooling, and felt a wave of love and affection wash over him. His daughter had birthed these beautiful miracles!

One of the babies awoke and squirmed, and Celeborn adjusted his grip so he wouldn't roll sideways. Large grey eyes cleared and blinked up at him sleepily, and then the child broke into a gummy grin. Celeborn felt his heart swell, and he smiled back.

Just a moment later, the other twin wiggled in his arms, awake as well. This one giggled upon seeing Celeborn's doting expression, and kicked his feet in excitement.

The door swung open then, and Celeborn's lovely wife stepped through, her golden hair tossed over her shoulders. She swept over to Celeborn and stopped behind him, smiling over his shoulder at the twins. "They've awoken?"

Celeborn hummed an affirmative, and then the elfling he held with his right hand released a pitiful cry and reached toward Galadriel. Celeborn chuckled and turned, depositing the child into her arms. "Here, love, he wants you."

"Oh, look," Galadriel cooed, and safely nestled him in her arms. "He's got our little Celebrían's nose."

"How odd is that," Celeborn commented to the twin he held, and both babies giggled.


	96. First In Mind

"Ada!" The door to Elrond's study burst open, as it did often, and an elfling darted in, eyes alight with enthusiasm and a paper waved excitedly in one hand.

"Ah, Elladan," said Elrond, and barely caught his oldest son in time. The twin bounced delightedly on his lap and thrust the paper into his hands.

"Look, Ada! I scored everything! 'Restor helped me and then said I did a wonderfulness job!" Elladan beamed, eagerly awaiting the praise he would receive for such an accomplishment.

Elrond wasn't thinking about the work, however. He stared at the large grey eyes, the shoulder-length dark hair, and the still-chubby cheeks, and he was reminded sharply of his own long-deceased brother. A pang echoed in his heart, but then Elladan wiggled and he was brought back to the present.

"Hm? Oh, yes, that's excellent, Elladan! Good job."

Elladan's face wreathed in an even bigger smile, and he squirmed to the floor. "I'm going to show Nana!" he exclaimed, and dashed out of the room.

With a smile, Elrond watched him go; eerily reminded of the times he and Elros – after much coercion and kindness – would sprint into their foster father's chambers and shove their graded papers into his hands, proud of their completed work.


	97. Fellow Sufferer

"Elladan, penneth, you do not bear this burden alone. We can help you, if you would only let us –" Elrond snatched his comforting hand back when his son rounded on him, eyes narrowed dangerously and face angered.

"You will help? You, who have mourned for her months, years, and never let us join you in our grief? You will now help after all this time, which is only when you have decided that it has come time for you to comfort your children? We, who have suffered while you kept us out?" Elladan stepped back from his father, shaking his head. "No, I don't think so. You did not have the strength to stop me from leaving earlier; you will not stop me now." He spun and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He was surely going to go to his brother, who would feel the same way but didn't have the blatant courage to come out and say the hurtful words.

Elrond closed his eyes and a pale tear slipped down his cheek. He regretted, and always would, that he had let Elladan and Elrohir wander the wilds hunting for justice, while their sister was comforted by her grandmother, and their father grieved alone in his Home that seemed so empty without his silver-eyed love.

It was that which had torn his family apart.


	98. Finally

Erestor scowled fiercely at the door in front of him. It was closed and locked, as he had just found out. Erestor wouldn't have minded, but for the fact that he needed to get in there. Now.

"Ah, Erestor!"

Erestor turned his scowl to the golden-haired warrior trotting toward him. "What?" he said curtly.

Glorfindel didn't appear to even notice his snappy tone. "I've been looking for you," he said casually, and grinned.

Erestor glared at the door once more, then turned to face him. "Fine. What do you want?"

Glorfindel smiled proudly and thrust a bundle of papers in his hands. "There! I've completed my report!"

Erestor stared down at the filled-out papers with mild shock. Glorfindel had never turned his reports in on time before. He schooled his features and looked up. "Finally. At least you've gotten it on time for once."

"Indeed," said Glorfindel, quite pleased with himself. "So why are you standing here scowling at this door?"

Erestor tucked the completed report under one arm and glowered at the door again. "It's locked."

Glorfindel scratched his head. "Hm, odd." He leaned past Erestor and jiggled the doorknob. It didn't give in.

Erestor rolled his eyes.

"I'll fix it," Glorfindel volunteered, glad to be of help. His hand tightened on the doorknob.

Erestor read his intent. "Don't!" he yelped, but it was too late.

Glorfindel yanked on the handle and there was a cracking noise, then the doorknob came off in his hand. He stared at it in confusion for a moment, then chuckled. "Oops."

Erestor smacked him over the head with the report he had just been given.


	99. The Flag of Surrender

A Balrog, flaming and terrible, faced off with the powerful elven warrior.

"GIVE UP," ordered the Balrog in a rather squeaky voice that sounded fairly un-Balrogy-like.

"Never!" yelled the warrior in brave defiance, hoisting his mighty sword. His voice was high-pitched and surprisingly similar to the Balrog's. "You shall never defeat me!"

"YES I WILL," the Balrog stated fairly confidently. It cracked its whip and snarled angrily. The snarl also seemed somewhat…childish.

Elrond and Celebrían held back their laughs as they observed their young sons mock-fighting one of the most famous battle scenes – and definitely the elflings' favorite. Elladan's fearsome whip was a thin reed that he had found floating in the river earlier, and Elrohir's mighty sword was a thick and knobby stick that was supposed to have been used for firewood.

"DIE!" yelled the fearsome Balrog and the elven warrior at the same time, and charged toward each other. They clashed, and –

Elladan and Elrohir bounced off each other, their weapons flying in both directions. They landed hard on their backsides, then stared at the other for a very long moment before growling mock-ferociously and leaping at each other again, weapons abandoned.


	100. Beyond the Circles of the World

In the dying forests of Lóthlorien, beneath the fading trees and silver leaves, two dark figures knelt beside a female, whose face was pale and eyes glimmering with tears and the light of stars.

"Please…" Elrohir's voice was broken as he lifted a trembling hand to his lips. "Please, my sister…" He could not finish, his voice choked with sobs. Elladan, beside him, was bent over her form, tears trailing down his cheeks as he silently supported her head.

"My brothers," said Arwen with a gentle, tired smile. "I have lived well, and loved well. Mourn me not, please." She sighed, softly as the wind that whispered past their dark hair. "I cannot bear the thought that you would see me such. If you still hold my love, leave me and let me die in peace."

Elrohir wept quietly at her words, and Elladan placed her head carefully and smoothly onto the soft ground. They both pressed tearful kisses to her brow, where once had rested a silver crown that matched her husband's, and then they stood. Before vanishing into the forest, they turned back to look at her, and she lifted a weak hand, looking tiny and fragile among the trees.

"I would not have this to be the last memory you had of me," she whispered softly. "But as it is, fare thee well. Tell Ada and Nana that I have never regretted my choice."

Her older brothers nodded, not trusting themselves to speak, and they turned to disappear among the branches. Arwen lay her head back and let her gaze drift to the moonlight dancing on silver leaves. A peace overcame her, washing away all grief and sorrow, and she felt a boundless joy fill her as she felt her soul fall asunder forever and fly from her body. A great light washed over her and she heard something that seemed like her beloved's voice. With a cry of delight, she moved forward and vanished in a spectacular dance of colors.

Not far away from her lifeless body, two identical elves fell to their knees and cried aloud as they felt their sister vanish beyond the circles of the world.

She was truly gone now.


End file.
